An Arena of Glass: Now-told Stories of the 51st HG
by Hutsune
Summary: After the dramatic finales of the 49th and 50th Hunger Games, the Capitol is hungry for more excitement, bloodshed and death. As the Gamemakers prepare for 24 new tributes to enter a brand new arena, a new victor prepares be a mentor for the first time in a Game filled with new characters, new friendships and new enemies. Full summery inside.
1. Full Summary

**This is the second installment in my "Untold Stories" series. Because this is the second, and because I make references to (as well as use) other characters from my first, I strongly suggest that you go read "An Arena of Stone: Untold Stories of the 49th HG". You'll be able to get a grasp on my writing style, meet new characters, and I've also been told that it actually has a pretty good story-line. You can find it on my profile, and if you're still not convinced that you should read it, here is the summary:**

**An Arena of Stone: Untold stories of the 49th Hunger Games**

This is the story of the tributes of the 49th annual Hunger Games, a story that, until now, has remained untold. Follow the different stories of the 24 tributes forced into this arena of death and learn how 23 of them died and how one managed to survive long enough to be crowned victor. Learn about their lives, their struggles and their utmost will to survive. Maybe you'll take a liking to Capri, the quite, but witty, 17-year-old from District 7 who knows how to take care of herself. Or maybe Seni's more your style, the notorious playboy from District 1, hell bent on winning the Games. Maybe you'll be rooting for Evelyn who, against all odds, got reaped along with her childhood crush, Zach. Maybe you're captivated by Maddie's tragic past and are wondering just how this small 12-year-old is planning on getting her revenge on the family of her mother's killer. Maybe you want to know Lance's story, the story of an intelligent boy from District 4 who just wished that he could have found love before being sent to his death, or maybe you'd rather learn about his district partner Naomi, the girl who pretends to be a brainless blond but is actually a vicious killer. I'm sure Killian's story could amuse you, after all, the 13-year-old just wants a bit of fun, or maybe you'd rather have a more serious story, like Lara's, about a District 11 girl who will do anything to show the Capitol that she's not just a part of their games. Lexi is an interesting character to learn about; a tough street-fighter from District 6 who wants to lead a pack of tributes against the Careers, but maybe you'll rather want to support her district partner Vitz, the 18-year-old desperate to get home to his girlfriend and their unborn child. Lee's sexuality might fool you at first, but this District 9 boy is a force to be reckoned with, but if he's too fun loving for your taste, District 10's serious Braxton could be right up your street. Maybe 13-year-old Angela will be in your thoughts because I'm sure that you'll want to see her get home to the perfect family she nearly had. Seam born Vee could grab your attention or maybe your heart will go out to Shay, a sweet little girl completely terrified of the prospect of the Games. Or maybe it's Sierra you're hoping will win, the sadistic volunteer from District 2 who will do whatever it takes to become Victor. Even if it means killing her own brother.

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**But I understand if you don't feel like going to find that story. It does sound like quite a mission...seriously though, how interesting do those tributes sound? But anyways, here's the summary of this story you actually clicked on (thanks for that, by the way). If you're planning on reading my first story, DON'T READ THIS SUMMARY! It gives away who the victor is and would ruin the surprise. But if you don't like surprises, then go right ahead and read. Sorry I'm rambling...**

**An Arena of Glass: Now-told Stories of the 51st HG**

Even though the Quarter Quell now behind them, the Capitol is bloodthirsty once again for an even more exciting Hunger Games and the Gamemakers are doing all they can to live up to the expectations set by the 49th and 50th. With respective wins from District 7's Capri Arello and District 12's Haymitch Abernathy, things are really looking up for out outer districts, but the Careers are desperate to bring the glory back home. Will ice-cold Damask Silver from District 1 be the one to take the crown, or will it instead go to his sister, Chiffon, whose obsessive purpose for entering the Games is to kill her insane brother herself in revenge for murdering their mother eight years ago. District 2's conceited Forster Bell and fierce Draco Vergis are also strong contenders, but then again, prim-and-proper Estelle di Mare and cheerful Keenan Pike from District 4 has a much of a chance at victory as they do. Maybe the victory will go back to District 7; to Regina Marks who volunteered for the Games for the sole purpose of getting away from an abusive boyfriend, or maybe her district partner, the gorgeous Parker Dubois, will win in her place? Storm Brown from District 10 hopes to win to bring his family out of poverty and District 5's shy Artemis Hues just wants to get home to the ones she loves, but maybe sharp Isaac Hartman from District 3 will win and get back to the best friend that he's completely in love with. Pink-haired Pensyla Martrina from District 11 hopes to follow in her father's footsteps, but does this tiny 13-year-old have a chance at winning? Goody-two-shoes Katy Brooks from District 8 hopes she doesn't, because this kind-hearted 16-year-old has a drive to win. Ray Cooper from District 9 and Padre Raymond from District 8 both volunteered to save their siblings, but could Ky Jacobs, the boy from District 6 who only asked for a sign that his life was going to change, beat them both instead? Rebecca Deryl's family is no stranger to the Hunger Games, but will she be able to make it home to District 6 where her cousin Lexi did not? Or will stubborn Sahara Bieza McFrinton from District 10 refuse to die and be the victor instead? Whatever the outcome, these Games will not be forgotten for a long, long time!

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**I really do hope that those summaries encourage you to read. Right, now onto the topic of reviews!**

**I really love reviews...I mean, who doesn't? I love hearing the thoughts of people who have read my chapters, even if they are bad because then I can know how to improve. I also just like knowing that people are reading, so short reviews are okay too! They just make me feel appreciated and they also encourage me to write more and update faster. So please review :) It will only take a minute and it really makes me happy. **

**Oh yes! Reviews also earn you SPONSOR POINTS! These points can be used to buy items and send them to the tribute of your choice in the arena. A list of these items will be posted on my profile after the bloodbath. **

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**To my tribute creators**

**Like my previous story, you can submit background chapters about your tributes if you want to give other readers a better perspective on their character. Just PM me, and I'll add it in (with mention to you, of course). It also helps me as a writer to understand them better.**

**I hope you enjoy the story :)**


	2. Chapter 1: Party

**Capri Arello, District 7 victor (19)**

"I feel out of place here. Everything is just so…weird. Seriously, Capri, how long do we have to stay?"

I raised my eyebrows at Harrison over the edge of my champagne glass.

"Just for an hour or two," I replied, taking a sip as I surveyed the Capitolite ballroom. "We just need to stay long enough to be polite and then we can go back to the hotel." I narrowed my eyes. "I didn't ask you to be my date to hear you complain all night though, so at least try to enjoy yourself, will you?"

Harrison sighed but said nothing. Instead, I just tugged on the seam of my deep blue gown and let my eyes wonder around the room, lingering for a few moments on different people before moving on to the next. I knew that Harrison would be uncomfortable coming to a Capitol party like this (I tried to avoid them at the best of times too), but I couldn't face one of this stature alone and needed my best friend there will me. Besides, the food was always tasty and it was good to get out of District 7 every now and then.

The party was to celebrate the coming of the 51st Hunger Games, which were set to start off with the reapings in just two days. My heart lurched as I remembered. This would be the first year that I would be a mentor, which was the main reason why I was required to be at the party tonight. Other victors were encouraged to attend, and, even though most did, it wasn't compulsory for them. Only the mentors and the previous year's victor had no choice in going.

I swept another glance over the room, searching for the unlikely victor of last year's Quarter Quell. It really had been a horror, and I was grateful that I was only involved in the 49th and not the 50th. I don't think I would have been able to survive double the amount of tributes in the arena, and the District 12 boy who did surpassed all expectations as most people wrote him off as a bloodbath. Two of the other District 12s did, in fact, die in the bloodbath, but the blond girl who allied herself with Haymitch Abernathy got pretty far before she was killed. Shame, they look liked they'd been friendly before the arena.

_Friends_. My heart sank a little as I thought of another friend Haymitch once had. Even though two years had passed since my victory in the arena, the death of Vee Clesta was still a sore spot for me. I still had nightmares about how she slit her own throat in the final two, giving me my victory. She'd been a close friend of Haymitch's (I'd seen his interview when Aristos Charis visited District 12 to talk to her friends and family, and it was obvious that they were close), but in the end all the horrors that had befell her in the arena had been too much and she chose to end her own life instead of living with the pain.

Even though Vee's sacrifice had made me value my life, there was another sacrifice that caused me to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, tears running down my face. There had yet to be a night when I didn't dream of Lance Wolf and, even two years down the line, his face was as vivid as ever. Some dreams were good; he'd be there holding my hand, or stroking my hair, and sometimes even kissing me, but most nights I dreamed the dream where he was telling me to run while he stayed behind to fight Sierra Golding. I always woke up when his cannon sounded.

"Oh, Capri! There you are! We've been looking for you everywhere."

A slender hand grabbed mine and I was yanked from my thoughts by a small-framed, red-haired girl as she smiled widely at me through her perfect white teeth. Snowflake Auron looked nothing like her namesake, with dyed dark red hair and shiny hazel eyes, but she moved as gracefully as if she was in fact a snowflake dancing through the air. The 18-year-old victor of the 48th Hunger Games was small for her age, but that didn't stop from cutting down fourteen other tributes to land her victory.

I felt another hand snake its way around my waist.

"And might I say, Capri, you do look particularly ravishing tonight."

Dash Grayson's voice was as smooth as ever. Like his fellow District 1 victor who stood beside him, he had won his Games with a high kill count; 17 no less. He was the victor of the 44th Games, and probably one of the most popular victors yet. He was certainly the best looking, with dark brown hair, a strong stature and deep blue eyes. When he looked at you, he made you feel like you two were the only people in the room.

I forced a smile and turned to Harrison. "Harry," I said, gesturing at our companions. "These are Snowflake and Dash from District 1. They'll be mentoring with me this year."

Snowflake grinned. "I'm so excited that my first time mentoring will be with Dash here. I was so afraid that I'd get some boring old guy." She pulled a face. "Aren't you just so excited for the new Games to start?"

Excited was not the word I was thinking of, but I nodded anyway. "For sure," I said, my fake smile widening. "I can't wait to be a mentor."

"We have a bet going with some of the other mentors," said Dash, leaning closer to me. "The usual stuff, betting on whose tribute will win. Care to weigh in?"

"No thanks," I replied graciously. "I'd rather not jinx anything."

Snowflake laughed. "I guess you're going to lose some money if you don't come from a Career district like us." She pulled on Dash's arm. "Come on," she said to him, "we still have a lot of networking to do. We have to get loads of lovely sponsors for our volunteers this year. A boy from my class isvolunteering this time! Damask Silver. He's kinda scary actually, so my money's on him to win as opposed to whichever girl is volunteering. I think it might be Gulianna Gold. Didn't her brother die in the 49th…"

Snowflake's voice faded as she led Dash away.

"They seem nice," Harrison observed, watching them go, "though I remember watching both of them in their Games. They weren't so nice then."

I sighed. "Back then, it was hard to imagine that all those people on TV were real, but meeting victors like Dash and Snow really change your perspective on things. Neither of them are monsters like Sierra was, and even with her I'm not quite sure. She really loved her brother, so I guess she had to have some good qualities."

"They weren't really clear when she was trying to chop you into pieces," he muttered in reply. "But I sort of see what you mean." He looked up from his drink. "I need to use the bathroom. Be back in a sec."

He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and pushed his way through the crowd surrounding us, leaving me standing on my own. I took another sip of champagne and started to look around the room again. Snowflake was eagerly chatting to an older woman and her husband, using excitable hand gestures as she spoke to explain her point. The old couple was smiling and nodding in agreement. Dash was a few paces away, his arm around the waist of a pretty Capitolite who couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. Two girls at the drinks table were eyeing them jealously, and a few paces to their left, a dark-haired boy was picking up a half-drunken bottle of champagne and exited the room onto the balcony outside. This was the new victor from District 12.

Deciding that Harrison would be okay to be by himself for a few seconds when he got back, I made my way through the throngs of people towards the balcony door, ignoring the few people who tried to catch me for a conversation. The cold night air hit me with full force as I stepped outside, and I suddenly wished that my evening gown wasn't sleeveless. Gritting my teeth, I walked towards the boy who was leaning against the rail.

"Hi," I said, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm-"

Haymitch Abernathy turned, the now-empty champagne bottle clutched between his clammy fingers. His bloodshot eyes narrowed as they found my face.

"Capriiiiiiiiii Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarello," he slurred, holding onto the railing for support as he turned to face me. "Yes, I knoooooow who yoooou are." He made to take a step forward, but lost his balance and swung into the railing instead. "Stupid floor won't stop moving," he muttered, steadying himself again.

"I think you should go lie down," I said tentatively, holding out my hand. "Here, let me help you."

Haymitch glared at me. "I don't waaaaant help," he said angrily, eyes half closed. "Not frooooom the likes of yoooou."

"Please," I said kindly. "Haymitch, you should really go lie down. You've had too much to drink."

"Yooooou don't seeeem to have haaaad much to drink toooonight," he said, raising a finger as he spoke. "Why is thaaaaat? Didn't yoooooour best friend slit her own throat while yoooooou watched helplessly frooooom a thoooousand miles away?" He paused as if in mock thought. "Oooooh wait, that waaaaaaas me." He dropped the champagne bottle and it smashed across the floor as he stumbled past me into the ballroom again. "Don't talk to me again."

I stood there motionless, breathing heavily. I was in so much shock that I hadn't noticed Harrison had joined me until I heard his voice in my ear.

"What happened out here?"

That snapped me back to reality.

"Nothing," I said quietly, turning to walk back inside. "I think we've been here long enough. Let's go back to the hotel."

I pushed past him and into the room before he could see that I was crying.

**And here's the first chapter of my sequel to "An Arena of Stone: Untold Stories of the 49****th**** Hunger Games." What do you think? **

**The reapings will be posted soon. Like my previous story, I won't be writing every reaping, but every character will have a POV before the Games start. Well except for my self-created bloodbath characters.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you'll all review :)**


	3. Chapter 2: A Marked Woman

**Regina Marks, District 7 (17)**

My house was quiet when I gently pushed open the front door, wincing as the all too familiar creak echoed through the empty hall way. Shit. So much for sneaking back inside in the early hours of the morning.

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply as harsh pain whipped through my seizing chest, and took my first shaky step into the darkened room. I knew my parents wouldn't be home (they have to get up early every day for their Peacekeeper duties), but Taylee would probably be in her room (and hopefully still asleep). I didn't want my sister to see the bruises.

I shuddered inwardly as I remembered the events of the night before; the piercing pain as my arm was cruelly twisted, the blood dripping down my back as the unkind fingernails dug into it, and the crack that echoed around the room as my forehead smashed against the bedside table. And of course, the tears. How he cried into my shoulder saying how sorry he was for hurting me again. How he promised that he loved me and wouldn't do it anymore. I'd heard it all before, but at least this time wasn't as bad as the last when he shattered an empty beer bottle over my head.

"Regina? Is that you?"

Groaning, I slowly turned to face my older sister who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Looks like I didn't need to be quiet after all because she had been waiting for me.

She gasped as she took in my appearance. "Did he do this to you?" she demanded, rushing forward. "Was it Walter?"

I shook my head, my vision clouding over from the pain in my head. "I slipped," I replied, reciting the same excuse I'd been using for the past year. "It was an accident."

"Bullshit," retorted Taylee, reaching out a hand to brush my blond hair away from the cut on my forehead. "You must think I'm a bloody idiot to believe that it's a coincidence that all these bruises appear just after you've seen that boy of yours. I'm assuming that's where you snuck out to last night."

I said nothing.

"Regina," she sighed, tenderly cupping my face. "This isn't healthy. Relationships aren't meant to be like this, you know? I think it's time-"

"-just stay out of my life," I snapped suddenly, slapping her hand away and pushing past her. "You don't know anything about me, so fuck off!"

I slammed the door of my room, cutting Taylee off in midsentence as she tried to call after me. She didn't understand at all. How could she suggest that I should break up with Walter? How could I? He loved me, didn't he? He always said so and he always felt bad after hurting me. Maybe that time really was the last, even though it was always my fault when it happened. Walter had told me that he wouldn't have to hurt me like that if I didn't make him so angry. I wouldn't need to be punished if I wasn't bad.

Slipping out of my dress, I went to go stand in front of my full length mirror to survey the damage done from the previous night. My tanned skin was alive with old and new bruises alike, and an especially concerning yellowing one spread out from my ribs and all the way along the right side of my stomach. This one had appeared three weeks ago when Walter had hit me with one of his dining room chairs. He had been even more angry when it broke, blaming me and kicking me while I lay crying on the floor, but afterwards he had held me close and cried, promising that it wouldn't happen again. I believed him.

I gingerly felt the cut on my forehead, my blue eyes filling with tears as the pain clouded my vision for a second time. I sniffed, adamant that I wouldn't cry again, but I was quickly overrun by emotion as I remembered how I'd been crying the night before, screaming as I begged for him to stop, and soon I was sobbing once again. Walter was right. I was weak.

Rubbing my eyes, I limped into the bathroom. I needed to wash off the blood before I got dressed for the reaping. My mother had bought me a new dress especially, but mainly because I had already grown out of my old ones. Taylee's too. I was at least a head taller than her now even though she was two years my senior.

Taylee didn't say anything more on the topic of Walter when I re-entered the kitchen wearing my long, light blue reaping dress.

"You look nice," she said casually, obviously trying not to stare at the bruises on my face that I was attempting to hide with powder. "Blue is a good colour on you."

I thanked her politely and sat down as she served me the toast she had made.

"I don't understand why you don't grow your hair longer, she said, setting the plate down in front of me. "It would suit a pretty girl like you."

"I prefer short hair," I replied, looking away. The real reason was that I didn't want to give Walter another way to hurt me. He used to pull on my long hair before I'd cut it short, and after I'd cut it he'd given me another beating for going against his wishes and cutting my beautiful hair. I was supposed to be growing it out again for him, but I trimmed it secretly every now and then. It was my little way of defying him.

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Tim Cliffe met me at the end of our street so we could walk to the reaping together. Tim had been one of my best friends since kindergarten, but I hadn't been allowed to see him much of late because Walter didn't like me to hang out with any other guys. He got very jealous. My stomach squirmed just thinking about what he might do to me if he saw me walking with Tim.

"What happened to your face?" he asked as we started to walk. "That looks painful."

"I slipped," I lied, forcing a smile. "I hit the banister when I fell down the stairs at home. It hurts less than it looks." Another lie.

Tim clicked his tongue. "Sally says you had another bruise on your arm last week, same excuse I might add. What's wrong, those long legs of yours making it difficult to walk?"

I faked a laugh. "Yeah, maybe."

And then my heart stopped. I'd just caught sight of a familiar figure walking up the street towards us. Walter.

Walter Tero was a handsome man, standing just over six feet and built like a wrestler. Even though he was only 19, he looked a looked a lot older and had a way of intimidating just about everybody. His handsome face was now drawn into a leer, and his dark green eyes narrowed menacingly at Tim and me as we neared. I was in trouble.

"Who's this?" he demanded, talking a threating step forward. "Another boyfriend?"

"N-no," I stammered, suddenly scared for my life. "He's just a friend. Tell him, Tim."

Walter's eyes narrowed further. "Tim, hey?" he sneered. "So that's his name, is it?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, unbalancing me. "Come, I want to walk you to the reaping."

"Quit being so rough with her," Tim said loudly, making a move towards Walter as my heart seemed to stop.

Walter laughed. "Yeah, what are you going to do about it?"

_Nothing, Tim, _I begged inwardly. _Please, just let it be. I'll be okay._

"Hurt her again and you might find out."

Walter shoved me away as he took a step towards Tim.

"Leave him, Walter!" I cried, grabbing his arm. "He's not worth it. Please, let's just go."

Walter stopped and turned towards me again, but in that moment Tim aimed a strong punch at his jaw. There was a howl of pain, and then Walter was on the ground.

"Run, Regina!" Tim bellowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. "We have to get out of here!"

Trying not to cry, I sprinted after Tim through the streets of District 7. He might have thought he was helping me, but the truth was that Walter would punish me for these actions later. My thoughts were confirmed as I heard him scream after us.

"You'd better run, bitch! Because when I find you later I'm going to fucking kill you!"

I shut my eyes tightly and ran, holding onto Tim's hand as if my life depended on it, which it probably did. We were both out of breath when we reached the town square.

"So I'm guessing that's where all these bruises come from?" he panted, gazing at me seriously as he wiped the sweat off his face.

I pulled my hand out of his. "I need to go stand with the other girls now," I said shakily, ignoring the question. "Bye, Tim."

Tim made to come after me, but I was soon swallowed up by the crowd. I pretended not to see Sally waving to me from her spot in the line of 17-year-old girls, and instead stood by myself near the front. I didn't want her to see me cry.

"Happy Hunger Games, everybody!"

Shimmer Palone, the District 7 escort had just walked onto the stage, her giant gold, H-shaped earrings (the same ones she wore every year) swinging from side to side as if they were just as excited as she was. This year, Shimmer had dyed her hair a shocking pink and was wearing it in a long plait all the way down her back, a would be normal hairstyle if it weren't for the large white feathers sticking out of every pleat. Behind her, District 7's short line of victors followed, sporting the new addition of Capri Arello, who had won only two years ago. The blonde 19-year-old looked calm and confident, but I could see in her eyes that she wished she was anywhere but where she was now. I knew how she felt.

"Ladies first!" announced Shimmer, diving straight into the action as she finished her excited speech about the Hunger Games. "Let's see who the lucky little lady will be this year!" She groped around in the glass bowl, obviously hoping that it would create suspense, which it did, but for the opposite reason she thought it would be. No one here wants to be picked, and winners like Capri were often just flukes.

"Hally Goodwood!"

Everyone's eyes turned to where a dark-haired 16-year-old, who actually looked like a strong candidate, was walking out of her place in line, trying her best not to shake as Shimmer applauded her excitedly from the stage above her. Everyone's eyes were on her but mine. Mine were on Walter.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, nearly directly opposite me. His jaw was red from the punch Tim had given him earlier, and his eyes were cold and hungry.

"I'm going to kill you," he mouthed, making a slicing gesture across his throat. I shivered. I had no doubt that Walter was going to hurt me especially bad tonight. Maybe he really would end up killing me this time.

And that's when I made my decision. There was no way I was going near that monster again.

"I volunteer!"

The words were out of my mouth before I could change my mind, and I immediately regretted them. What was I doing? Was the Hunger Games really the answer to my abusive relationship? I'd be put into an arena with kids just like Walter, all actually trying to kill me and not just hurt and scare me like he does.

But it was too late. The damage was done.

"Oooooh!" gushed Shimmer excitedly, clapping her hands. "I believe we have a volunteer! What's your name, sweetie?"

"Regina Marks," I said as confidently as I could, ignoring the stares from the crowd as I walked towards the stage. "I'm seventeen years old."

"And a pretty one at that!" added Shimmer with a little laugh. "Though we're going to have to do something about that bruise of yours."

I ignored her.

"Right!" cried Shimmer. "Time to choose who will be joining the lovely Regina Marks!" Her hand slipped into the boy's ball. "Parker Dubois!"

A boy walked casually out of the 18-year-old section, looking not in the least bit phased about being reaped. His light brown, sun-streaked hair fell into his mossy green eyes as he loped towards the stage and he carelessly brushed it away with one of his strong hands. He looked like something out of a fashion magazine (most likely the underwear section), with perfect copper skin, taut muscles, and when he smiled, his perfect white teeth flashed in the sunlight. Oh boy, he certainly was a charmer.

Shimmer seemed flustered when Parker shook her hand, gently bringing her fingers up to his lips as he kissed them.

"Oh my," she stammered, her cheeks turning pink. "Aren't you a pretty one?"

Parker just smiled and made his way towards me, his green eyes staring confidently into mine.

"Hey there," he said smoothly. "I'm Parker."

I just looked away.

"Regina," I said curtly, focusing my attention back on to the crowd, scanning for signs of Walter as Shimmer carried on with her speech. I spotted him where I'd last seen him, the outrage clearly visible on his usually handsome face. I smiled sweetly at him, giving him a little wave.

He couldn't hurt me anymore.

**And that's the first reaping chapter. At this point, I'm not sure how many more I'm going to go before our lovely tributes head off to the Capitol. I have so many interesting back stories.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 3: Isaac's Confession

**AN: Just a quick note before we start the action. This chapter was written by the wonderful Dante Alighieri1308 and, if you like what you read here, go check out his story "The 76th Hunger Games: The Haunted". It's even better! Also, I have a confession…I've kinda forgotten who each new tribute belongs to, so if you could please let me know I'd really appreciate it ****J**** thanks. **

**Oh yeah, and I'm implementing the same sponsoring system as my last story. One review = one point which you can use on items to send to your favourite tribute during the Games. I'll post a list on my profile after the bloodbath.**

**Isaac Hartman, District 3 (18)**

**Isaac Hartman, District 3 (18)**

"Where is she?"

"Where do _you_ think she is?" my sixteen year old, hot-headed sister Gretchen demanded.

I sighed, already knowing the answer.

"You can't get too upset with her," I pleaded calmly, though inside I'm just as angry, even if I refused to show it. That wouldn't help anything.

My philosophy didn't really sink in for Gretchen though, who went off as usual.

"What the hell does she think she's doing?" she demanded, pacing back and forth across our small house. "Doesn't she have any respect for herself? For us?"

"She's still in shock-"

"IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS, ISAAC!" Gretchen cried. "Can't that dumb women just move on? He certainly has!"

"Don't talk about them like that!" my nine year old brother, Martin, shouted, tears in his eyes. "You have to be nice!"

Next to him, his twin, Shawn, was already openly crying. The house was soon in chaos as my younger siblings argued and cried together. I breathed in deeply, trying not to get mad.

"Enough," I announced in a strong and controlled voice. It quieted them all down. "Gretchen, you are going to stay here with Martin and Shawn-"

"WHAT?" Gretchen shouted.

"-while I go out and get mom."

"You're not leaving me here!" Gretchen shouted back. "I want to look at that basta-"

"Gretchen." I warned, fighting to keep my voice even as I gave my sister a cautionary look.

"-bastard." My sister finished. "I want to look at him and scream at him and make him feel like the piece of crap he is!"

"But he won't," I answered calmly, already moving to put my rugged boots on while addressing Gretchen. "I'll find mom, bring her back, and then I have to go work at Alan's shop for a while before the Reaping. I need you to take care of the twins this morning and then get yourself ready too. I'm going to be changing at Alan's and heading straight there afterwards. We can meet up on Third Street."

Gretchen bit her tongue, wanting to say something yet refraining herself from doing so. "Fine!" she shouted, before adding in a mocking tone. "Have fun!"

I sighed and left the house, our one-story slum shack with no windows or proper interior spacing. There were only two rooms, a main room and a bedroom. Our mother took the bedroom along with my sister while the twins slept on a dusty couch in the main room. I slept in the corner, willingly. The house didn't have proper toilet utilities either. If someone had to relieve themselves they either did it in the yard or went to the communal bathroom three blocks away. Needless to say, the area generally smelled like a sewer.

After a while you just get used to it.

Suddenly a man stumbled from our neighboring house, hung over. He vomited all over the dirt in his front yard, some of it going into ours. I could hear his wife shouting at him from inside the house, angrily reminding him about how she turned down other men for him while a little boy cried behind her skirt. The kid tugged on her clothing as if asking for attention, but his hand got promptly slapped away as the mother turned to look back at her husband. But instead, she made eye contact with me and her eyes narrowed.

"What you want, Hartman?" she demanded, her voice slurred by her missing teeth.

I shook my head and continued walking, ignoring the failure in domestic practice. I knew better than to attack her with words. Gretchen did it early and while she wasn't hurt, the mother took it all out on her son. He had been bloodied and bruised for weeks after that beating.

It took a while, but I finally exited the slums and soon I was traversing the main city. The city itself was made up of large factories on the outer sections, their smoke stacks drifting over the slums where many families lived. Those families who could afford them lived in their apartment complexes closer to the center of the city where the Justice Building and Peacekeeper barracks were. I was not heading there though, actually moving past all these buildings to the wealthiest part of District 3.

I exited the graffiti filled and run down city and emerged in a cleaner portion of the District. This was where all the rich people lived, though the 'rich' still struggled like the rest of us. These people usually ran the factories for the Capitol or were high level researchers for new tech. The Victor Village was further ahead, though it was mostly desolate. Our last Victor passed away a few years ago. The Capitol attempted to cover it up, but everyone knew it was suicide. You didn't hang yourself from a tree outside your house by accident.

I finally arrived at my destination, sighing in frustration when I saw my mom outside one of the houses, screaming at some woman near the front entrance. It was lucky that they were separated by a rundown gate, because my mother looked like she would have murdered the other woman if they weren't.

"I want to see him!" my mother screamed. She was wearing rags mostly, tears and stains aplenty. She was skinny too, and had brown hair just like me. I hope I didn't look as crazed as her though.

The woman stood at the front door, looking indignant. She huffed in frustration and stuck her nose up at my mother. She was in rags like my mom, like most people in District 3, but they were nicer ones with less damage. She also wore an assortment of colored ribbons and clothing that didn't match across her body. Nobody was too picky about fashion here. Anybody who could add color in any form to their clothing was known to be rich.

The woman, noticing me, laughed derisively. "Get your batshit mother out of here!" she screamed. "Your daddy doesn't want to see her!"

I bit my tongue, keeping back all the possible angry remarks that I wanted to make. This harlot annoyed me to no end and everyone knew it. I couldn't do anything about it though. Things were too complicated for that. Instead, I walked over to my mother and whispered softly in her ear.

"Come on mom, you shouldn't be here."

"I can be here if I want, Isaac!" my mom cried, her rapid aging showing quite clearly thanks to her despair. "He's my husband, not hers!"

"He'll never admit to that anymore, you washed up bitch! You belong in the slums!" the harlot screamed at my mom.

I turned to her, my face twisted with rage. "Shut the hell up, whore! Why don't you go back into that house and get back down on your knees where _you_ belong!" I screamed at her. I'm about to continue but I stopped myself, telling myself to calm down. I took my mom's arm and slowly led her away, ignoring the harlots screams of protest and her cries of superiority to us.

I ignored the figure in the window, gazing at us. I didn't ever want to recognize Heinz's, my dad's, presence. My mother was shaking, weeping openly.

"How could he do that to us?" she cried pitifully. "We were a good family! We were good!"

I had no response. Unlike my mom, I had stopped asking that question a long time ago. My mom was one of the smartest people in this District, brought down by Heinz's fucked up mind. She gave her entire life to him, only for him to throw it back in her face.

I had no interest in gaining my father back though. I had, earlier on, but no longer. He had disappeared one night, reappearing later to tell us that he was leaving the family. He was kicking us out of the house so he could live with his new girlfriend, a much younger woman, who didn't have a brain cell to call her own. My mother, siblings, and I were forced into the slums. I had tried to talk to Heinz, begged him to fix things, but he told me that there was nothing to fix. He was happy where he was and that I should just accept it.

So I did, after calling him every foul name in the book.

We arrived back at our house, our neighbor now passed out in front of his. I slowly open the creaky door, leading my mother inside. The twins were happy to see her, though Gretchen couldn't keep the accusation off her face.

She walked up to me to express that.

"Why does she still try, Isaac?" she asked. Her anger at Heinz matched my own.

I shook my head. "She's just lost. Unable to cope, you know?"

Gretchen shook her head too. "She should be stronger," she replied simply.

I frowned at my sister. She had been scared by Heinz throwing us out, which forced her innocence out of her quickly. She grew up in a tough environment and, unlike me, hadn't learned to control her emotions. I still loved her, but sometimes she could be so frustrating.

Despite her temper, I knew I could always count on Gretchen to help with the family. I didn't put much of the responsibility on her though; that was left to me. She was smart and I wanted her to do something with her life, so I forced her to stay in school and get a good education while I worked for the family's money.

"I have to get to Alan's." I said, my heart racing at the mention of his name. "Meet you at the Reaping, right?"

My sister nodded her head, giving me a quick hug. "Just be on time. Otherwise I'll start mugging again." I frowned in concern, causing my sister to laugh at the look on my face. "I'm only kidding!"

I rolled my eyes and, nodding my head, left, still not fully convinced. My sister, in the early years of living in the slums, had been a bit of a kleptomaniac. I had put an end to it, but I still felt that she stole at times. I'm all about morality, but even I couldn't argue with her logic. She had the family to worry about and we were on the brink of starvation. Arguably, she had helped our family survive the first winter in the slums and I would always be thankful to her for that.

I liked to think of myself as a 'good person', but I was not above the grey morality that permeated this District and most of Panem.

I re-entered the city and arrived at my destination. Alan, my best friend, was out front… with her, locked around each other and kissing passionately. I sighed and coughed a little to alert the couple to my arrival. Just like I expected, they don't stop, so I walk past them into the store.

Alan's mother was at the front counter, smiling at me.

"Hello Isaac, sweetie. Happy Reaping Day!"

I rolled my eyes, laughing at the sarcasm in her voice.

"Happy Reaping Day to you too!" I responded, equally sarcastically.

We chatted for a little before I got to work. Alan's parents owned a repair shop, fixing devices for the citizens of District 3. They were pretty basic things, but tough enough that most needed repairmen to fix them if broken. I had gotten the job after Heinz kicked us out.

I sat in the backroom, fixing a broken toaster. I could pretty much do this with my eyes closed at this point. I had repaired so many things in the past three years of working here that I could do most things without even looking. I had even started building a few things myself. Not all of them worked, but I was getting better and better each day.

The door opened and Alan stepped in, his face giddy.

"Hey." He smiled at me.

I smiled back at him, though it was forced.

"Hey," I replied, returning to my work.

He came up behind me, leaning over the desk besides me, his body consciously close to mine.

"Look, I'm sorry about missing you two nights ago," he sighed. "Ivanka wanted to hang and-"

"It's ok, you don't have to explain," I responded, laughing nervously. Alan was really close to me now, his face only inches from me. I pulled away quickly and turned my head so he couldn't see the hot patches of pink that have suddenly appeared on my cheeks.

"I really am sorry," he said again with another sigh. "I know I've been really busy with her and we haven't had much time to hang."

"It's fine, really is. Totally!" I responded quickly, mentally face palming at how stupid my voice sounded. "I've had so much to do at the house that I can't even think straight!"

"It's clearly not okay," Alan said seriously. "You always start rambling when things aren't okay."

Dammit. He knew me too well.

"I'm glad you and Ivanka are happy," I said, trying to sound like I meant it. "I really am."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "You say that a lot." he said. He paused, grinning wickedly. "You know what you need? A girlfriend!"

I scoffed. "I don't have time for that."

"Everyone has time for that!" Alan said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Besides, you need someone to care about you too, specifically like you do for everybody else."

_'You do that.'_ I thought to myself, my shoulder tingling from his touch.

"I'm okay," I protested. "Really, I am! There aren't any girls who I particularly like anyway."

"There has to be someone."

"No."

"Not even Data?"

"Oh fuck, why did you have to say that?" I asked, the image of an ugly girl coming to my mind. Data was probably the most unattractive girl in the district.

Alan laughed, pulling something out of his pocket. I looked up to see him handing me a brown envelope.

"Open it," he commanded.

I took the envelope, taking care not to touch any of his fingers. I opened it quickly, gaping in surprise at its contents.

"I can't take this," I said immediately, shoving it back towards Alan.

"Isaac-"

"-No," I said firmly. "It's too much money."

"You deserve it," he countered, pushing the envelope back. "Consider it a Reaping Day bonus from my family."

"I can't take it from your parents."

"Then it's a Reaping day bonus from me; your best friend!" Alan said, punching my arm softly. I laughed uneasily, but handed the envelope to him anyway.

"I can't take it. Just pay me my usual."

Alan snorted and took the envelope. "You can be so difficult at times, you know that?"

He got up and walked away to the front of the store where he had to do the stock inventory.

I sighed, dirty images of what I want to do with Alan coming to my mind. It had been a problem for almost a year now, thinking of Alan as more than just a friend, as… as a lover.

The thought of Alan bending me over the repair desk came to mind, but I shook my head quickly and returned to my work. I did not want to think about what would come next.

* * *

I arrived with Alan at the Reaping twenty minutes before it started. He smiled at me as I separated myself from him to go find my family.

"Catch you later."

I smiled back and watched him go, averting my eyes from his body.

_I'm such a fucking creep,_ I thought to myself, as feelings of rage and depression threatened to overwhelm me. I just shut them out, just like I always do.

"Isaac!"

I looked up to see Gretchen shouting at me from the corner of Third Street, walking towards me with the rest of my family who weren't dressed in rags for a change. I smiled at them as we reunited, quickly telling the twins to go meet our mother in the reviewers section.

"Any problems?" I asked Gretchen as we walked to the check in after leaving our brothers.

She shook her head. "Mom was crying some more, but the twins cheered her up enough that it was contained. How's Alan's family?"

"He's fine." I responded, images of Alan filling my thoughts again.

My sister looked at me. "And his family?" she prompted, eyebrows raised.

"Oh," I said embarrassed. "They're fine too."

Gretchen looked at me strangely, but then finally turned her head.

_Does she know'_ I thought frantically, my whole body clenching. _Does she hate me?_

_No she wouldn't…_

_How would I know? We never talk about those types of feelings… especially the ones I'm having!_

The Peacekeeper at check-in called me up and I signed my name on the clean white sheet of paper on the table before me. After giving a quick blood sample, Gretchen walked off to the sixteen year old section while I walked to the one for eighteen year olds. I found Alan and stood next to him, and we proceeded to talk about various, unimportant things until the mayor walked onto the stage and the Reaping began.

A talk about the Dark Days, followed by one of the war, ensues. The treaty that ended the war was read and the propaganda film for the Hunger Games played. Finally, our escort stepped up to the stage, all smiles and all manners of freaky. Her hair had been styled to make it look like she was electrocuted, with her tight fighting dress covered with lightning bolts. She had long nails too that look like data chips, which appeared particularly deadly as if like they could claw out someone's eyes within seconds. Actually, they were long enough that they could probably pierce someone's brain if they wanted to.

"Hello everyone! Happy Hunger Games!" She cried to the mute crowd. "Fifty one years! Can any of you believe it! How marvelous!"

Her accent was grating on the crowd, but nobody said anything. Someone a few years ago mocked her for it and the Peacekeepers arrested him. He was seen two days later, hanging in front of the Justice Building.

_Slander is illegal, _a sign read below his hanging body.

"Now, I know that District 3 hasn't been particularly… well… successful these past couple of years," our District escort continued, "but I'm confident that this year we can pull through for a win!"

She had said that the past four years and, every time, not a single tribute from District 3 had made it past day two of the Games. It was like she was jinxing it.

"Well, shall we begin?" She asked rhetorically. "Ladies or gentlemen first?"

Again, nobody said anything.

Our escort was not deflated though. "Ladies it is then!"

She wobbled over to the ladies' bowl of names and pulled one out, the slip caught in between her pincher like fingernails. Slowly, she opened the slip to condemn some poor girl.

"Pixel Brock!" she called off.

The area was silent for a while, until a figure emerged from the thirteen year old section. Pixel turned out to be a small girl with dark hair, ashen skin, and a skinny body. She was also wearing broken glasses, which were trembling on the bridge of her nose and threatening to fall off (which they probably have already by the look of them). She walked slowly up to the stage, her legs shaking underneath her long dress.

She was a typical District 3 tribute. She wouldn't make it far and everybody, including her, knew it.

Alan leaned over to me. "Looks like another bad year," he muttered to me. I agree with him, enjoying the feeling of his breath on my cheek.

"Hello!" the escort said, steering Pixel closer to the microphone. "Are you excited for the Games, sweetheart?"

Pixel looked at the escort with fear, but she refused to cry. She leaned closer to the microphone and, in the politest voice possible, said, "No."

I sighed in discomfort, as do many other people around me. Some looked to the girl's section, wanting one of them to volunteer for this poor kid. None do, but who could blame them? I wouldn't either.

Our escort sighed loudly. "A pity, but I'm sure you'll change your mind sooner or later!"

Pixel shook her head.

"No, no I won't." she said meekly.

The atmosphere of the crowd changed as the Peacekeepers became tense and citizens began to admire Pixel for standing up to the escort's chipper behavior.

_Maybe there's something to this girl, _I thought hopefully.

The escort didn't respond to Pixel's last statement.

"Well, how about the gentlemen then?" she said, her voice slightly irritable as she walked over to the boys' bowl. I held my breath like I do every year. This was my last year in the Reaping, just one last one and then I was free.

The name was read off and my whole world crumbled.

"Isaac Hartman!"

I remain frozen as heads, most of them relieved, turn to look at me. Alan stood beside me, as quiet as death and a look of shock painted all over his handsome face. I looked away, wanting to scream and run in the opposite direction as fast as I can.

But I didn't.

I was in the Hunger Games and I had to play its sick Game now.

I walked out of my section and towards the main aisle where Peacekeepers were already waiting for me. My face was stone as I attempt to put on a strong demeanor, because this was the first image that the sponsors would see of me and I had to look prepared to win despite my horror.

I walked down the line of children, my head held high and back straightened. I see Gretchen from the corner of my eye, but refused to look at her, knowing I would break character if I met her eyes. She seemed to realize what I was doing and copied my behavior, though I could see her shaking slightly when I snuck her a glance.

We reached the stage and the escort helped me up. She was smiling happily.

"An eighteen year old!" she squeaked excitedly. "It's so nice to have someone so mature going into the Games!"

I gave a small smile.

"Thanks for the endorsement." I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

A voice cried out before the escort could respond.

"ISAAC!"

I looked over to the viewer's area and saw Martin crying.

"I volunteer!" he screamed out.

I shook my head sadly and stepped up to the microphone.

"It's okay, Martin," I said calmly. "Just stay where you are."

The escort quickly retook the microphone, not liking my breach in 'protocol'.

"There you have it, District 3!" she said quickly, wrapping things up before the proceeding spiralled out of control. "Your two tributes for the 51st Annual Hunger Games; Pixel Brock and Isaac Hartman! Shake hands you two."

I turned to Pixel, who nervously held her hand out for mine. We shook slowly, her hand squeezing mine tightly. She was looking at me hopefully and I knew what she was thinking.

"Let's stick together," I told her.

She smiled and lookd brighter, though far from happy.

As for myself, I felt like I was going to throw up at any second.

* * *

My mom was crying harshly.

"Why?" she sniffed. "First Heinz and now my own son!"

She continued to cry and I pat her on the back in reassurance, even though she should have been the one trying to comfort me.

"It's going to be ok." I told her, forcing a smile. I couldn't tell them I was going to win. That would be too big of a lie.

I got up and go to the twins first. Both were in tears.

"Now you two behave and do whatever Gretchen or mom tells you to do, okay?"

They both nodded.

"Don't go around causing trouble. Stay in school and get good grades. They'll help you get good paying jobs and one day you can live in the nice part of the District."

"Next to you in the Victor Village, right?" Martin asked.

I bit my lower lip and pulled them into a hug. I didn't respond.

I then went to Gretchen, who was holding back tears. We hugged each other tightly, the emotion high. When we separated, I forced my face to be serious. I spoke in a soft voice; only my sister could handle the harsh truth.

"I'm not going to make it back," I told her.

She shook her head, lower lip trembling.

"Don't say things like that," she muttered in reply.

"Listen to me," I told her, "I want you to go to Alan's parent's shop and ask for my job from them. They should be more than willing to give you the job since they know you're smart. Use that money to help the family out."

"You're not going to die," she whispered, a tear falling from her face.

"Don't do anything stupid either." I continued, ignoring her. "Only steal when there is absolutely no alternative, and make sure you're smart about it. Also, don't you ever do anything that Switch asks of you, okay?"

Gretchen nodded her head. Switch was the head of District 3's growing prostitution ring. He had approached Gretchen a few times about joining, but she promptly declined him. She needed to keep doing that.

Martin and Shawn came up from behind me to hug me. Gretchen hugged me too and I accepted the embrace from my siblings. My mom was still crying on the couch.

"Everything is going to be ok." I told them, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You guys are smart and tough. You can make it!"

"And so can you!" Shawn said.

"Yes, yes you can!" Gretchen said, stepping away to wipe the tears away. "You're smart! You can make something to use against people! Remember how the District 3 tribute a few years ago tried to make a gun?"

"I can't make a gun," I replied softly.

The doors opened and a Peacekeeper entered.

"Visiting time is up," he announced firmly. My family left without fuss, though tears were still flowing. The doors closed and I wa left alone.

A few other people came to visit me, though I didn't care about any of them. I only wanted to see Alan now. My teachers, a few people I knew from school and the mayor of District 3 and her husband all wish me luck in the Games. I accepted their thanks quietly.

When the pool of visitors started to dry up, the last person I wanted to see walked in.

"Get the hell out of here!" I shouted at Heinz.

My father just looked at me sadly.

"I just wanted to wish my son luck," he said, acting obvious to the pain he caused the rest of his former family.

"I don't need your fucking luck!" I shouted at him. "I don't need anything that you have to offer! Get out!"

"Fine, but at least listen to what I have to say," he answered, his demeanor suddenly becoming serious.

"Peacekeeper!"

"I'm going to take care of your siblings now."

I balked when I heard that, just as a Peacekeeper opened the door, baton raised.

"Is everything alright?"

"E-everything's fine," I replied softly, attention on Heinz. "I just… I just overreacted."

The Peacekeeper shook his head in annoyance and closed the door to the room once more. It wa silent for a little between us before I spoke.

"What do you mean you're going to take care of them?" I asked.

"I want our family to be reunited," he said carefully. "I want everything to go back to the way it was before."

I couldn't believe what I washearing now. I began to laugh in disbelief.

"Why would you want that? You didn't give a shit about us when you kicked us out."

"I've always cared about you and your siblings, Isaac."

"But not mom."

Heinz sighed. "We don't need her. I'm going to raise your siblings with my new wife."

"YOU'RE MARRYING THAT WHORE!?" I screamed in disbelief.

"She's not a whore…"

"YES SHE IS!" I shouted back. "A fucking whore who is only using you for your money, you stupid old man!"

Heinz shook his head. "We're in love and we're going to raise my children together. Your mother can't take care of them properly now that you're gone."

I laughed. "I thought you thought I could win."

Heinz shrugged. "It's a precaution. Goodbye Isaac."

And with that, he left the room.

The rage was boiling inside me as my body trembled. He wa going to try to take over my sibling's lives. He was going to ruin them again, just like he did mom. I couldn't let that happen!

I needed to win… I needed to win for my siblings!

And to do that, I had to play the Games to their fullest.

I hated the Capitol just like any District citizen, but that hate wasn't going to endear me to anyone or help me survive. Sure, I could take the moralist approach and damn the Games for their evil, but what good would that do my mom or siblings? I wasn't competing for myself; I was competing for my family. If I even had a chance at winning then I will make the Capitol love me!

Somehow…I was not very good when it came to getting people to like me. Not to mention the glaringly obvious fact that District 3 didn't hold much credit in the Games. We had a history of giving Bloodbath tributes, though thankfully not as bad as District 12's. However, in the past few years they had gotten surprisingly better. They almost won in the 49th and they _did_ win the in the 50th! District 3, on the other hand, got slaughtered in both.

And when I kill, because I know I'll have to, I'll picture that pig of a father's face.

The door suddenly opened and my heart leaped when I see who entered.

"Isaac…" Alan murmured, unsure of how to proceed. "Isaac, I'm so sorry."

I tried to think of a witty comment, or even a sarcastic one, but nothing came to mind. I had blanked on anything to say. I just ran up to him and hugged him tightly, surprising him, but thankfully he hugged me back. I pulled away when I felt my heart racing.

_Tell him now,_ A voice told me. _This is your last chance ever._

This wasn't how I planned it, actually I never planned on telling him at all, but somehow, in a moment of despair and inability to control myself, I was telling him something I could hardly even admit to myself.

"I love you, Alan." I said quickly, my voice barely a whisper.

Alan laughed lightly. "I love you too, Isaac," he replied.

My mind was blown. I couldn't believe he just said that! But then I realize that he didn't mean it like I did; he meant it like a brother.

"No… I mean that I actually love you." I said softly, suddenly afraid. "Like, _love you_ love you."

Alan was no longer smiling.

"What?"

"I-I didn't mean for it to happen! I just did!" I explained frantically. "I don't expect you to like me back but I just thought you needed to-"

"No, no I didn't need to know this." Alan said quickly, backing up from me with a look of disgust on his face.

"Alan please, just listen-"

"You've seen my practically naked!" he shouted, sounding horrified.

I gaped at him. "But I'm not trying to… to… to rape you or anything! And I don't think of you like that whenever you're-"

I broke off, unsure of how to continue. A tear fell from my face, though Alan appeared unmoved by it.

"I have a girlfriend." Alan said steadily.

"You think I don't know that?" I screamed at him. "How could I not with the amount of time you spend running around with that whore and forgetting about me? Aren't I important too, just like fucking Ivanka?"

Then I realized what I had just said and regret filled me immediately.

"Wait no, no I didn't mean that!" I begged, looking pleadingly at Alan. "I just got angry. I'm angry and I'm scared and I don't know what I'm doing."

"Don't try to justify yourself, Isaac." Alan said, the hurt showing clearly on his face as he took another step backwards. "You meant every word of it."

"Please, I just thought you should know," I pleaded, eyes watering. "I thought you should know before I died."

Alan didn't respond. Instead he walked away to the door and opened it.

"You should have kept it to yourself."

The door slammed behind him, the noise echoing through the now-empty room.

I stood there, feeling completely alone and empty. I fell onto the dirty couch, a layer of dust blowing up into my face, staining my tears as my entire body shook. I curled up into a ball and allowed the tears to flow for a little before I sat back up and wiped them away with the back of my hand.

I couldn't think of myself now. I hadn't thought about myself in such a long time. It had always been my family and it had to continue to be. I had to enter the Games and win. Then my family would be set and free from Heinz. And maybe… maybe I could fix things with Alan.

I then take a moment to continue crying for myself, knowing that nobody else would.


	5. Chapter 4: Draco's Surprise

**Draco "Drake" Vergis, District 2 (18)**

_Crack!_

The sound of wood on wood resonated through the training hall, filling the room with the sweet sound of splintering timber. Unfortunately, it was my wooden sword breaking.

"Ha!" shouted Blair Torrington, grinning manically as she spun around to face me with her own weapon safely clasped in both hands. "Looks like I have you this time!"

She certainly did, but I wasn't going to let her know that. Instead, I tossed the broken ends of my sword aside and bunched my hands into fists. I loved a challenge.

"That's what you think, darling," I replied with as much confidence as I could muster. "I bet I could still take you with my bare hands!"

Blair just laughed, "Yeah right."

She lunged at me again, much faster than I had anticipated. Blair and I had been training together ever since we were selected as this year's two volunteers, and I thought I knew every move of hers off by heart by now. Turns out I was wrong. Blair's wooden sword slashed dangerously close to my left cheek, and I only just managed to duck aside in time. A blow like that, especially from Blair, could easily shatter my cheekbone, and I really took pride in their defined shape. I didn't need anything hindering my physical appearance this close before the Games.

"You know, Drake," Blair said between strikes, "this kind of reminds me of a fight in the 49th Games. You know, Sierra verses that District 6 girl? She was using her fists against Sierra's sword." Blair laughed. "We both know how that ended."

"If I recall correctly," I replied, dodging Blair's attacks, "Sierra didn't make it home either. They both died in the end."

Blair's brown eyes narrowed and she leapt forward again, forcing another attack on me. I blocked upwards, shielding my face, but she changed direction at the last minute and went for my knee instead. I cried out in surprise as I felt her wooden sword make contact with the bone and I went down, clutching it in agony. Damn, that girl was fast.

She leaned over me, her sword resting on my chest.

"Sierra didn't make it back because she was weak," she said fiercely. "That's the difference between us. I'm not weak."

She might want everyone to think that, but I walked in on her crying after Nic, Sierra's brother and Blair's ex-boyfriend, died at the end of the District 11 girl's spear. I swore never to tell anyone, but that didn't make what I saw any less true. Though, to be fair, someone who was actually weak wouldn't have been able to knock me to the ground like she just did.

"No, you're definitely not," I said, pushing her sword aside and getting to my feet. "But that doesn't mean that you'll win this year. That's me, remember?"

That earned me another whack with the sword, this time across the side of the head.

"That's what you think, _darling,_" she replied, mimicking my earlier words. "I think we both know who's stronger here." She sighed. "Look, whatever happens, happens. No hard feelings, right?"

I smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "You'll find it hard to have any sort of feelings when you're dead."

I managed to dodge her blow this time.

"I'll see you at the reaping then," she said, pointing her sword at me again. "We're wearing our uniform, yes?"

I nodded. "I hate that thing, but I guess it makes us look unified. And badass."

Blair chuckled. "I don't feel very badass wearing that little skirt though." She then frowned and glanced around the room. "Foster!" she called, "where's my bag?"

The dark-haired girl sitting on the bench at the end of the room got up from her seat and started to make her way towards us, clutching what could only have been Blair's bag. I instantly recognised the girl as one of her minions (Blair had always surrounded herself with girls who seemed to do whatever she said), though I hadn't ever seen her up close before. She was actually quite pretty, with straight, sleek dark-brown hair that fell just past her shoulders and stormy green eyes, almost hazel around the pupil. She was about a head taller than Blair, tall by District 2 standards, and had smooth-looking ivory skin. This girl would definitely be considered as beautiful, which was probably why Blair was trying to keep such tight control over her. She doesn't like people to be prettier than her.

"Here, Blair," said Foster in a monotone, holding out the bag. "Your bag."

Blair smiled sweetly, though I could see it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, hun," she replied, reaching out her hand towards it. "Much appreciated."

Without saying goodbye, Blair turned on her heel and marched off towards the changing rooms, probably looking forward to her hot shower.

"Aren't you going to go help her scrub her back or something," I asked Foster jokingly as Blair left.

Foster just scowled. "As exciting as the thought of two girls showering together must be for you," she snapped, "I have better things to do with my time."

Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, she turned and stalked off, leaving me staring after her in complete shock. I didn't expect to hear that coming from one of Blair's little followers. Who knows, maybe she would be the new "It Girl" once Blair died in the Games, because Blair would definitely die, right? I was going to win.

I exited the Career Academy five minutes later, not bothering to shower because I could easily do that at home. I hated the showers in the changing rooms, but Blair couldn't stand being sweaty for too long, so **(5)** she always went straight after practice. I chuckled to myself at the thought of a sweaty Blair in the middle of the Hunger Games. She'd probably go crazy without being able to clean herself. Ha, maybe the arena will be an island or something just to please her. I'm sure her mayor father could sort something out.

I took a sip of my water bottle, thinking about what the arena this year would be like. The previous arena was an absolute paradise; well until you tried to eat the fruit, drink the water or pet one of the bloodthirsty, fuzzy little creatures that is, and the year before that had been based on a long-forgotten land; Africa I think it was called. Actually, the Africa-style arena had been pretty cool. Maybe they'd try to mimic another place like that this year?

"Drake!"

I turned as I heard my name, instantly recognising the voice of Fin Speight; my best friend. He was running towards me, closely followed by Harper Macek (another close friend of mine), with a panicked look in his eyes.

"What's up?" I asked, growing concerned. "You look spooked."

"You'd better come quick, bro," Fin replied, panting as he attempted to brush a strand of blond hair out of his bright blue eyes. "It's Emmy."

"Oh, shit," I muttered, breaking into a sprint as my friends started to run off again. "What has she gone and done this time?"

Emmy was my fifteen-year-old sister, and a huge handful. The girl might have the face of an angel, but in reality she was actually closer to a devil. She was a vicious little thing, despite my parents' efforts to calm her down, loved nothing more than a good fight and causing others as much pain as possible. She has yet to understand that she's not going to achieve her goal of winning the Games if she doesn't learn how to control herself. The best Career tributes are always able to control their emotions.

"She's gotten herself into another fight," explained Harper, gasping for breath as we raced down the street, "though this time she's bitten off a bit more than she could chew."

"I don't think she thought it through when she picked a fight with Ashley Flint," Fin continued. "You know what those brothers of hers are like."

I knew all too well. The Flint brothers were both students at the Career Academy, and both much larger than I was. Mason Flint, the older brother, was in my year and a strong contender for this year's Career tribute, but I'd somehow managed to get picked over him. The younger brother, Aaron, was in the year below me, but still larger and looked almost identical to his sibling; the same dark brown hair and matching dark brown eyes. Ashley Flint, their younger sister, was in my sister's year, and the brothers were notoriously protective over her. Trust Emmy to go looking for trouble in a situation like that.

"Is she alright though?" I asked, already guessing the answer since we were, in fact, running to her rescue. "I mean, they wouldn't hit a little girl, would they?"

"It sure looked like they would," answered Harper, "which is why we came to find you to break things up. People tend to listen to you for some weird reason."

I ignored her jab and sped up, wanting to reach Emmy before the Flint brothers did anything to hurt her. I had no doubt that she did, in fact, deservea good beating, but not from the likes of them.

I could hear Emmy shouting as soon as we neared the scene.

"Come at me, stupid! I can take you both!"

I sighed. As tough as Emmy thought she was, I doubted very much _(Not too sure if this part makes sense. The "very much" doesn't fit the sentence, so if you could take a look at that, it would be good)_ that she could defeat Mason and Aaron Flint.

"Hey! What's happening here?" I called out as I reached the crowd that had gathered around Emmy and her two opponents.

"Piss off," muttered a scrawny onlooker. "We're here to see some stupid girl get ruffed up by the Flints."

I grabbed the boy by the collar and pulled his rat-like face closer to mine.

"That 'stupid girl' is my sister," I hissed, glaring down at him. "So you'd better show some respect, especially since her brother is this year's Career tribute."

I shoved the boy aside and pushed my way into the middle of the group.

"Mason, Aaron," I said, nodding in greeting. "Emmy. I understand we have a bit of trouble here?"

The brothers rounded on me, their faces hard.

"Yes, we do," said Mason, folding his arms. "Your little sister has gone off and hurt ours. We're just evening the score."

I sighed. "Is it really even with two muscular boys targeting a tiny fifteen-year-old girl? Really guys, are you trying to look pathetic? Let the girls sort out their own issues."

"Ashley isn't at the Career Academy," replied Aaron with a glare, irked at being called pathetic, "so we thought it would be fairer if actual trainees sorted it out."

"Yeah, and I can take you both!" Emmy chipped it, trying to push past me towards the boys. "Fuck you, Drake, I can fight my own battles! Unlike little Ashley," she sneered at them.

I just ignored her and pushed her aside.

"Don't take any notice of her," I said smoothly. "She's just a stupid little girl, after all."

"I'm not-"

"-shut up, Emerald."

"You're right," agreed Mason, taking a step towards me. "She is a stupid little girl. We should beat you up instead!"

Aaron nodded threateningly, also moving closer. "Yeah, let's see what this year's Career tribute can do."

Before I could reply, Aaron shot forward and aimed a punch towards my lower jaw. He was fast, I'll give him that, but I was faster. I sidestepped him easily, kicking out towards the back of his knee and sending him sprawling. He crashed into the wall of people surrounding us, knocking at least three of them down with him.

"Do you want to try something stupid too?" I asked Mason, lifting my fists. "Because I assure you, you'll end up the same way as dumbass over there."

Mason didn't reply. He flew at me instead, his knuckles directed at my cheek. I wasn't fast enough to move aside that time, but I lifted my hand to block him. The Flint brothers were strong, but I knew I was better at hand-to-hand combat. Soon Mason was on the ground too.

"Well that settles that then," I said cheerfully, rubbing my hands together. "I'll see you all at the reaping. Don't forget to cheer when I go up on stage."

I grabbed Emmy by the arm and dragged her away. She tried to struggle, but I wasn't in any mood to let her get away.

"You little idiot," I hissed, tightening my grip around her upper arm. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I could have taken them both without your help," she muttered, trying, but failing, to free her arm. "Thanks for making me look stupid."

I laughed meanly. "You don't need me for that, little sister."

She attempted to kick me in the shin, but I saw the blow coming and blocked her with my leg.

"You don't learn, do you?" I sighed, amused. "Just walk normally would you? I don't want to be late for my own reaping."

* * *

Blair grinned at me as her father, the mayor, walked onto the stage to begin the reaping.

"You ready for this?" she asked excitedly.

I grinned back. "Yeah," I replied. "Let's do this."

"I can't believe it's finally our year," she sighed happily. "I can't wait to start!"

My reply was interrupted by the tremendous applause that signalled the arrival of our District escort. This year, she was dressed from head to toe in some strange-looking animal print, her clothing hugging her slim body so tightly that it was a wonder that she could breathe at all. Her hair was dyed a deep green, identical to her green skin, and her eyes shone out in bright yellow. I swear they get weirder and weirder every year.

"Hello, District 2!" she cried, flinging her arms up into the air and revealing her long, claw-like nails. "Aren't we all just so excited today?!"

The crowd cheered again, obviously just excited as she was. It must be nice for her to get a Career district. From what I've seen on TV, things in the other districts aren't too fun this time of year.

"Now," the escort continued after she'd finished her usual speech about the dark days. "I just can't wait to see the lovely volunteers of this year!" Blair and I grinned at each other. "But first, let's head over to the ladies' bowl and pick out a name, since it is tradition after all."

Well it was more the rule than a tradition, but the crowd didn't seem to care because they cheered wildly anyway. Everyone knows that whoever gets picked will have to forfeit to the pre-chosen volunteers. That's the most important rule regarding the District 2 reapings.

"Foster Bell!"

I laughed in surprise. "Oh look, it's your little disciple."

Blair just stuck out her tongue and raised her hand.

"I volunteer!"

A roar went up from the crowd as Blair made her way up towards the stage, casually waving at the audience as she did so. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, but it soon disappeared as a voice spoke over the noise of the crowd, amplified by the microphone on the stage.

"Um, excuse me? I didn't say I was accepting volunteers, did I?"

A hush fell over the crowd at once. Startled, I looked up at the stage to see Foster Bell standing behind the podium, a triumphant look on her face.

"What?" demanded Blair, stopping dead in her tracks. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Standing up to you, bitch," Foster replied, smirking. "I am so sick of all the crap you give everyone, just because you're the mayor's daughter. You're not a fucking princess, you know? So I'm taking your place today. Looks like you don't always get what you want, huh Blair?"

Blair was fuming. "Get the hell off that stage!" she screeched. "I'm the volunteer this year! Not you!"

Foster just smiled. "But I was reaped," she said innocently. "Rules are rules."

"She's right," said the escort timidly. "Foster was reaped fair and square. She will be representing District 2 this year."

Blair turned towards the mayor. "Daddy, do something!" she demanded angrily.

"I can't, sweetie," he shrugged. "Those are the rules. If Foster wants to go, then it's her right."

I watched in horror, though also in slight amusement, as Blair's whole world crumbled. Nothing like this had ever happened in the history of District 2 before, though it was bound to eventually because it happened in District 1 two years back when a twelve-year-old took the place of their chosen volunteer. In fact, I was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner.

"I hope you fucking die in the bloodbath!" Blair shouted, glaring at Foster in pure hate. "And if you do by some miracle make it back alive, I'll be waiting to kill you myself!"

She probably wouldn't be the only one. Foster was going to be in a whole lot of trouble for breaking protocol.

"I'm looking forward to it," Foster replied casually, waving at Blair from the stage, "Bye-bye now."

The crowd was dead silent as Blair pushed her way through, marching angrily off down a neighbouring street. The escort still seemed shell-shocked as she took the microphone again.

"R-right," she said, trying her best to appear composed, "now for the boys."

The next half of the reaping went off without a hitch. The boy whose name was called graciously stepped down to allow me to volunteer, and the crowd cheered wildly as I walked up to the stage to join Foster.

"Impressive," I said as I shook her hand. "I did not expect that at all."

Foster rolled her green eyes. "Someone had to stand up to her eventually. I'm just glad it was me."

I released her hand just as the escort grabbed my other one.

"District 2, I present to you your tributes!" she cried, lifting my hand, as well as Foster's, into the air. "Draco Vergis and Foster Bell!"

* * *

**This chapter just seemed to write itself. I guess that's what happens when you're procrastinating from studying for your physics exam…what do you think of these two? I'm glad I finally got two Careers into the mix of tributes! **

**Thanks for reading **** and I hope that you all will review :)**

**Oh yes! Could you possible point out some of this mistakes that I might have made in this chapter? I often miss some so I'd really like to know what to look out for in the future. Thanks :)**


	6. Chapter 5: Pink Pensyla

**Pensyla Martrina, District 11 (13)**

I was going to be in so much trouble. Oh boy, did I really screw up this time. Seriously, out of all the possible screw ups to think of up until this point in my short lift, this one really took the cake. My dad was going to be furious.

He was waiting for me in the back yard like he usually did, standing stiffly upright and facing away from the gate that I entered tentatively through. Even though I couldn't see his expression, I knew he was mad.

"Hi, Daddy," I said nervously, tip-toeing towards him. "I can explain."

My father turned slowly. "I hope you have a very good excuse, young lady, because I-" He broke off at the sight of my appearance. "What the hell have you done with your hair?!"

I winced, like I knew I would when he saw me, and gingerly fingered a strand of my newly-dyed, neon-pink locks.

"Don't you like it?" I asked sweetly, running my fingers through it.

"Who did this to you?"

I pouted. "It's not that much of a big deal, you know? People in the Capitol are doing it all the time! And besides, I think it looks cool."

"It most certainly does not _'look cool'_," he snapped, scowling at me. "We're fixing it right after the reaping today." He sighed angrily. "So I guess this is the reason why you weren't here for training this morning." It was more of a statement than a question.

Now it was my turn to scowl.

"I don't see why I need to be trained," I muttered, looking at the floor. "We're in District 11, for God's sake! It's not like I'm ever going to volunteer! It's stupid and a waste of time. I want to do normal things, like normal teenage girls."

"Normal teenage girls don't have victors for fathers, now do they?" was my father's angry reply. He then sighed. "Look, Pen, I do this because I care. The Capitol has a nasty habit of choosing the children of victors-"

"-Well you shouldn't have had children then!"

"I didn't want to!" he barked in reply. "But accidents happen."

"Yeah, well then I wish your accident had never been born!"

I turned angrily on my heel and stormed into the house, passing my very surprised mother on the way up the stairs.

"Your hair-" she started, but I cut her off.

"-Yes, it's pink!" I yelled, pushing past her to my room. "Deal with it!"

I slammed the door of my room and immediately marched over to my running kit that was hanging over the edge of my desk chair. Grabbing the clothes and flinging them onto my bed, I angrily began to undress. I loved my father, but he never seemed to understand what it was like to be me. Wasn't he a teenager once too?

I sighed as I remembered just how quickly my dad had to grow up. I guess getting reaped at the age of fifteen does that to a person, but that was still no excuse for his relentless training. Yes, I understood that he was worried that I might be reaped and that he wanted to make sure I could survive, but what I really didn't understand was how often, and how forceful, his training sessions were. You would think I was trying to be a Career if you didn't know me any better!

Frowning, I scooped my pink hair up into a high pony-tail and, grabbing the half-empty water-bottle on my desk, ran from my room and out of the house. Running always made me feel better.

The other district kids my age would have gone to a friend's house to complain about their annoying family, but I had no friends which made running my only release. As depressing as that thought might sound, I actually didn't mind all that much. The kids at my school were all idiots anyway and labelled me as an outsider from the very beginning because my father was a victor. That fact would probably have made me popular in another district, but here in District 11, it's just serves as a reminder that I'm the daughter of a murderer. Yeah, he had no choice in the matter, but that didn't seem to stop the kids at my school from picking on me (though, now that I think about it, picking on the daughter of a murder might not seem like a good idea). My father's training didn't make my social life any easier. They all thought I was some sort of Career-freak getting ready for the chance to win just like my famous dad. If only they knew the truth...Occasionally, I wished that I had a special friend, a best friend to tell all my secrets too, but then I'd remember that girls like me don't have friends. And that the kids I knew were all complete morons.

I tried to ignore the other houses in the Victor's Village as I ran past (mainly because I didn't want to be reminded of the reaping in the afternoon), but the colossal monstrosities were almost too much to overlook. Most of them stood empty, their lonely white walls another reminder of District 11's failure in the Games, but the four houses closest to mine were inhabited.

District 11 had exactly seven victors to show for the 51 years of the Hunger Games, a puny number compared to those in the Career districts (though not so puny compare to District 12's two). Luke Starker had been our first victor, winning the 4th Games at the age of 17. He had died a few years previously of a heart attack and his house has been empty since. Tessa Livestone of the 29th Games and Gordon Hart of the 37th have been married for over ten years now and share the house next door to mine. Tessa's story is an absolute miracle, especially since she managed to win at the age of 12, despite all the odds stacked against her and their son, Renly, was a year ahead of me at school. The house on the other side of mine is occupied by Alicia Thorne, the mentally-unstable winner of the 15th Games, and the house directly across from mine belongs to our most recent victor, Chaff, of the 47th Hunger Games. He would be mentoring this year.

I sped up as I left the Victors' Village, almost sprinting along the stone path towards the orchards. The labourers would have the day off today (being the reaping day and all) so it would make for a quiet, undisturbed, run.

The orchards were actually quite magical without the usual throngs of workers between the sweet-smelling fruit trees. Being the daughter of a victor, I was never required to work there (probably another reason why the kids at school didn't like me) because I was from the richer part of town. If I was poorer, I'd be forced to climb to the tops of the trees to collect fruits from the highest branches like the other children with my small build. That was pretty much the only time I was thankful for being born into the family which I was.

I slowed to a jog as I neared the center of the orchard, stopping completely to pluck a low-hanging apple off a nearby tree. I bit into it, allowing the sweet juice to run down my chin for just a moment before wiping it away with the back of my hand. I sighed with content, savouring the crisp taste as I-

"You know you're going to get whipped if they catch you eating from the orchards?"

I jumped in surprise as I heard the clear voice speak from behind me, chucking the apple away into a nearby bush.

The voice chuckled.

"Probably a good call throwing that away," it said, still laughing slightly. "Luckily for you, I won't tell anybody. Nice hair, by the way."

I turned slowly to see Alicia Thorne, the now half-crazy victor of the 15th Hunger Games, standing behind me. Her long, jet-black hair had turned a motley grey over the years, but it still hung in her usual long plait down her back and her dark eyes were as black as ever, contributing to the crazed look she seemed to have adopted. She frowned as she recognised me.

"Pensyla Martrina," she said, her voice showing a hint of surprise. "I didn't expect to see you out here. And with that hair too! Wasn't your father cross?"

I felt slightly tense, but I answered the older woman anyway. "Yes, but he will get over it soon."

Alicia narrowed her eyes. "I'd expect he'd have to, especially by the results of today's reapings."

Now it was my turn to frown, though I tried to hide it as best I could. Alicia Thorne was known to say strange things at time, the strangest being when she'd convinced the District 11 tribute of the 49th Games, Lara Anders, to blow up the arena and kill everyone as a protest against the Games. She wasn't punished as Lara's plan failed and the doctors simply wrote her off as mentally unstable, never allowing her to mentor again. Knowing the Capitol, there were probably more details than that, but I guess the rest weren't common knowledge.

"The reaping hasn't happened yet," I said carefully, not wanting to provoke the clinically-insane victor. "It's this afternoon."

"Is it now?" Alicia replied dreamily, as if deep in thought. "I do believe you're right. Funny, I could have sworn I knew the outcome. But then if that was true, you would be on your way to the Capitol right now instead of here taking to me, wouldn't you?"

My heart did a little flip in my chest, but I ignored it, knowing that half the things Alicia said were completely crazy. She often got ideas into her head that she was convinced were true, but then it the end it turned out not to be. This was obviously one of those times.

Pushing away the nagging sensation at the back of my mind, I started to speak again.

"Well I'm here," I said, trying to keep my voice calm because angering Alicia was not a very smart thing to do. "And so are you. What are you doing out here anyway?"

I hoped that a change of subject would change Alicia's train of thought, but I had no such luck.

"I was just taking a walk," she replied dismissively, batting her hand. "But that's not the point. The point is you were reaped for the Games, so you'd best get along to the train now, dear."

Anger started to boil in the pit of my stomach, threatening to burst out at any moment. I'd already had a tough day thanks to my dad, and I didn't need anything else on my plate, especially from this crazy woman who I hardly knew.

"The reaping hasn't happened yet," I repeated evenly. "My name hasn't been called."

"Ah, but it will be," she replied slyly. "The Capitol has a habit of calling on the children of its beloved victors. Why do you think I didn't have any of my own?"

_Because you're a crazy bitch, _I though impatiently, but I remained silent. Alicia Thorne wasn't someone who you'd want to get into a fight with.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Alicia continued when I didn't reply. "Your day is coming soon, Pensyla Martrina."

This time I turned and ran, speeding up as I heard Alicia cackling behind me. Oh Lord, she really was as crazy as everyone said she was. But, even though I knew what she was saying had to be nonsense, I couldn't help the feeling of dread spreading through my body as I jogged towards town square for the reaping. I had stayed in the orchard longer than I'd intended to, and I reached the reaping just as the mayor's speech ended. I slipped into the line of 13-year-old girls, ignoring the looks I got due to my lateness and my newly-pink hair. I could see my father on the stage with the other victors, but I refused to catch his eye. I was still angry with him. The chair besides his stood empty, though it wasn't a surprise because Alicia Thorne very rarely went to these sorts of events.

The District 11 escort was a short, plump man by the name of Evan Evans. He must have had a fun childhood with that name…This year, Evan was wearing a velvet suit of royal blue, with silver cuffs, silver dress shoes and a matching silver hat. As district escorts go, he was more on the 'toned down' side, though his loud, high-pitched voice almost made up for the simplicity (well, simplicity by Capitol standards) of his outfit.

"Hello, District 11!" he squeaked, almost losing his silver hat as his little head bobbed up and down with excitement. "Welcome to the reaping of the 51st Hunger Games!"

Silence met his enthusiastic speech, but that didn't faze the little man at all. Instead, he dove right into the main event.

"I don't know about you," he cried in his shrill voice, "but I'm ready to find out who our lovely pair of tributes are for this year!"

Silence.

"Let's see…" he dipped a hand into the bowl filled with the names of my female peers, glancing round excitedly as he selected a name. I felt myself crossing my fingers, praying that it wasn't my name he was clutching between his pale fingers. Damn, Alicia had really freaked me out earlier.

"Oh!" exclaimed Evan as his eyes skimmed over the scrap of paper that he had selected. "My, my! This is very interesting!" He paused, grinning at the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your female tribute for the 51st Hunger Games up onto the stage…the beautiful daughter of your beloved victor…Pensyla Martrina!"

My heart seemed to stop. Alicia was right…how could she have known? I didn't have much time to ponder over it though, because, soon enough, I was being pushed out of my row and towards the stage. I was completely terrified, but I tried to hide it as best I could in the hopes of attracting some sponsors. No one wanted to sponsor the scared, little girl. My dad had taught me that much.

"Oh wow, I love your hair, darling!" Evan gushed as I climbed the stairs to the stage to shake his hand. "You're going to be such a hit in the Capitol!"

_Good, _I thought gravely, _because I'm going to need all the support I can get._

I refused to catch my father's eye as Evan plunged his hand into the male bowl to pick out the name of my unlucky district partner. I knew my strong persona would start to crumble if I saw the expression on his face, an expression which would probably be a mixture of sadness and pure horror.

"Oh my!" squealed Evan, his face turning pink with exhilaration. "This really is interesting! Ladies and gents, your male tribute for this year is none other than Renly Hart, son of the famous victor couple, Tessa, previously Livestone, and Gordon Hart! Wow, that is a surprise! Two children belonging to three victors? Just wow!"

And that's when I knew this couldn't be a coincidence. What were the odds that Renly and I, the only children with victor parents in the entire district would get picked in the same year? The odds were next to none (and definitely not in our favour), and I knew the rest of the district could see this by the awkward looks they were giving each other. But of course, no one said anything. Rather us than their own children, right?

This year's reaping was rigged.

And Alicia Thorne had known.

* * *

**Sorry for the lack of updates recently. I've been quite busy. But here is another reaping chapter! I'm not really sure how to feel about this one...reaping chapters really aren't my favourites to write, but I guess they're important. I think I'll do two or three more before moving on to the Capitol. Next up: District 6!**

**I would just like to say a huge thanks to by wonderful beta readers Aspect1 and Pawprinter! They have done a really great job with editing the past few chapters, so if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes/typos, take it up with them. I also strongly suggest you take a look at some of their works as they are both talented writers. Aspect1 has just started writing her new Hunger Games story "The Back-end of Desperation" (you can find it on her page) and Pawprinter has released some amazing works about her characters Lexi Deryl (District 6 tribute of the 49th HG) and Rebecca Deryl (District 6 tribute of the 51st HG) as well as their interesting go take a look :) you won't be sorry.**

**Another huge thanks to everyone reviewing and following this story! You guys are amazing and I really appreciate all the feedback.**


	7. Chapter 6: Lonely Ky

**Ky Jacobs, District 6 (17)**

I didn't meet her eyes as I rolled off her and onto my back. I couldn't. The reality of what I had just done had finally hit me, and I didn't think I could sink to any lower place than I was now. I hated myself.

"Are you okay?"

The girl was staring at me, her bright blue eyes dimmed slightly by her expressionless face. She was actually quite pretty, despite the damaged, haunting look in her eyes. Her light brown hair tumbled in soft curls around her bare shoulders, and her skin was flawless even though it looked as if it hadn't seen sunlight for days. I could see why she was a favourite amongst the men of the district.

I didn't reply. Instead, I dug into my pocket, pulled out a few coins and thrust them in her direction.

"Here," I said shortly, still not meeting her gaze. "This should cover what I owe you."

She took it silently, allowing her fingers to brush lightly against mine as she did so. I pulled my hand back quickly. This night was a mistake.

"I'll show you out now," the girl said, her voice as expressionless as her face. "I need to get ready for the reaping."

It was in that moment when I realised how young she was. I originally thought she'd been in her mid-twenties, but now that she was speaking, she proved to be much younger, probably around seventeen or eighteen since she was of reaping age and, by the way she moved and the dead look in her eyes, it was obvious that she'd been performing her job for many years now; from when she was much younger. I felt sick.

"Don't worry about it," I said quickly, knocking the tangled blankets onto the floor as I hastily got up from the bed. "I know the way." I paused awkwardly. "Er, have a nice day."

I hurried out of the room, inwardly cursing at the stupidity behind my last comment. Of course she wouldn't be having a nice day. I doubted prostitutes ever had nice days.

I burst through the front door and into the dust street outside, almost gasping for breath. There were a few people out, but no one took any notice of me as they carried on with their boring lives. No one had ever really cared about me, so it wasn't like I wasn't used to it.

I shoved my hand into my back pocket and drew out the last of my musty cigarettes, glancing up and down the street at I lit it with shaking fingers. The first drag of this cheap brand was always disgusting, but I'd almost grown used to it as it was the only kind I could afford.

I guess it's easy to say that my life is going nowhere. Like 90% of District 6's population, there really isn't anywhere to go, though I probably had it worse off than others. I never knew my mother as she died when I was very young, and my younger sister followed her to the grave soon afterwards. I was seven at the time and she was only four. They'd told me that she'd "disappeared" (just like my mother had two years before that), but the look in my father's eyes and the smell of alcohol on his breath begged to differ. I left home that very night.

Since I was only seven with no other living relatives, I was sent to the district orphanage. It was like I had died and went to hell. The small, crumbling building was near the edge of the district and was already well over its carrying capacity; housing just under 200 orphans. So you can imagine their joy at having another mouth to feed. I was bullied by just about everyone in there and that, combined with the mouldy, dirty conditions, was why I kept on going home time and time again. Life with my dad was just as harsh, so I sort of just moved between the two places for most of my childhood. Fun.

I've never had any real friends. I'd even go as far as to say that people were afraid of me, especially since I displayed an unusual habit for setting fire to things. I guess my appearance could also contribute to that persona. I've always been tall for my age, towering over just about anyone I've ever met, and had unruly, jet-black hair that's always hanging into my grey eyes. I had some muscle definition, but I had more of a wiry build for it to be considered attractive, and my skin was deathly pale. I guess that's why I had to pay for some human contact this morning; because I hadn't had any from anyone in days. I was just lonely, but now I knew that visiting a prostitute for answers was not a very good idea. I felt awful.

I hadn't even asked her name. I'm sure someone had told me once, or that I'd seen her face somewhere before, but whenever I thought about it, my mind drew a blank. All I knew was that she was a favourite with many of the Peacekeepers, because she was actually quite beautiful. Well, I guess she once was. Now she looked haunted, like she'd lost something very important to her and was unable to keep living. But yet she did, because she had a family to feed. I didn't know her name, but I knew she had many siblings, and even cousins, to take care of.

I took one last puff of my cigarette before dropping it on the damp floor. Crushing it under my boot, I made my way towards my small house where, hopefully, my dad would be passed out drunk on the sofa. I needed to get ready for the reaping, and I didn't feel like interacting with him today at all.

I'm the kind of guy that, when you see coming, you immediately cross the street to walk on the opposite pavement to avoid me. Sure enough, that's what happened to me while I was walking home. I kept my head bent; my jersey pulled up over my mouth to prevent myself from breathing in the smog coming off the nearby factories, and ignored them. I was used to it anyway.

Like always, the door to my house was unlocked. I could hear my father snoring as I entered, so I moved quietly from the hall into my tiny bedroom. My room only consisted of a stale mattress propped up against one of the walls and a small chest of draws that carried all my worldly possessions, but I didn't mind too much because I didn't spend many nights there anyway.

I knew it was almost time for the reaping to begin, so I grabbed the first clean (well, clean-ish) items of clothing I could find and, still pulling my white shirt on over my head, rushed out the door again. I lived quite far from the Town Square, so I needed to leave early to make it there in time.

* * *

No one in the 17-year-old section even looked up as I joined the end of the line, but I guess that wasn't anything new for me. I was used to being ignored. I stood there quietly, waiting for the mayor to finish her speech as the morning's events replayed in my mind. The memories of the prostitute made me shudder. How could I have ever thought that would be a good idea? Was I really that desperate? The whole incident was just horrible, and I felt disgusted in myself for ever considering it, especially because the poor girl was actually around my own age.

The helpless look in her blue eyes was still fresh in my mind as the District 6 escort, Harmony Delight, skipped onto the stage.

"Hello, District 6!" he called, waving his dyed-purple hands in the air like he was some sort of monarch. "I can't believe it's this time of year again! It feels like it was only yesterday that I was here announcing the Quell!"

His greeting was met with a few half-hearted claps, so Harmony jumped right into the main business.

"Let's not waste any more time then!" he said enthusiastically, reaching forward to the girls' bowl to draw out one unlucky name. "Your female tribute is…"

His hand fumbled around in the bowl, probably for dramatic effect or something else stupid along those lines, before finally grasping a tiny scrap of paper. He drew it out slowly.

"Rebecca Deryl!"

"_No!"_

The pitiful cry came from the 14-year-old section, where a young girl with dark brown hair was being restrained by two girls behind her. She wasn't Rebecca, but that was when I remembered who Rebecca actually was. Her name had been called two years ago, for the 49th Hunger Games, but her cousin, Lexi, had volunteered to take her place. Unfortunately, Lexi died in the final five at the hands of the District 2 female tribute (who actually also ended up dead in the end) and now her cousin was probably going to suffer the same fate. I craned my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the unlucky girl.

And then my heart seemed to stop.

There she was, making her way out of the 18-year-old section and trying to look strong despite the helpless look in her eyes. The prostitute I'd slept with.

Another wave of nausea hit me and I took a step back. I guess now I knew where I recognised the poor girl from. I didn't have time to dwell on it though because, not even 10 seconds later, my day got even worse.

"Ky Jacobs!"

Oh God. My name was just called, though surprisingly, I wasn't feeling devastated. I knew my life was going nowhere, so maybe this was actually the change I needed? As clichéd as it sounded, this could actually be a blessing in disguise. And it's not like anyone would miss me anyway.

I changed my mind as I started to walk towards the stage. My legs were shaking so badly that it was difficult to walk, and my stomach was threatening to heave up everything I'd eaten in the past month if I walked too quickly. I knew I needed to appear strong if I wanted any hope of sponsors, but the absolute terror that consumes you as you walk to your death sometimes made you abandon such things. And she was looking at me.

Rebecca's lovely face was a mixture of horror and pity and she recognised me from this morning, which made me even more uncomfortable because the girl I had started my day feeling sorry for, now pitied me. Oh God, the whole situation was just too awkward to bear and, just like this morning, I couldn't meet her eyes as I walked to the stage. I was too ashamed.

"Tributes, shake hands," commanded Harmony, grinning broadly and ignoring the awkward expression on our faces. We complied, her grip on mine stronger than I expected.

"Hello again," she said pleasantly, trying to make light of the situation. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Yeah, me neither," I muttered, still avoiding her gaze.

Rebecca laughed, causing me to jump in surprise. I had never expected a girl in her situation to ever be able to laugh. She was clearly much stronger than she appeared.

"Stop looking so uncomfortable," she said, pushing lightly against my shoulder and she smiled up at me. "Yes, I get that this whole situation might be a little awkward for you, but we're in this together now; might as well try to be friendly."

I just nodded, still not looking directly at her. It was going to be a while before I could be even a little bit comfortable around her. Thankfully, Harmony grasped my shoulders and steered me towards the front again.

"District 6! I present to you your tribute for the 51st Hunger Games; Ky Jacobs and Rebecca-"

"-I volunteer!"

A murmur went up through the crowd as everyone tried to find the source of the female voice that had cried out. Soon enough, the same 14-year-old girl as before (the one who had cried "no" when Rebecca was reaped) forced her way out of her line and was staggering towards the front.

"I volunteer as tribute," she cried again, shaking her dark hair off her face as she stumbled forward. "Please, don't take Rebecca."

Harmony made to speak, but Rebecca pushed past him to stand on the edge of the stage.

"No, Brunella," she said calmly, though the sadness in her voice was apparent. "I won't let you volunteer for me. You and the others will be fine without me, I promise."

I noticed immediately that Rebecca didn't tell the younger girl that she would come back for them. Did she really think she had no chance? Did I have a chance?

"But we need you," Brunella replied in a small voice, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her face. "We've already lost Lexi. We can't lose you too!"

"And Rebecca doesn't want to lose you."

A new voice had joined the conversation and a pretty girl with dark brown hair and green eyes walked out of the crowd of spectators, a small, red-haired toddler's hand tightly clutched in hers.

Brunella sniffed. "I don't want her to go, Corolla."

Corolla. I hadn't seen or heard about her since the 49th Games, not since her boyfriend, Vitz Morales, died in the Games (at the hands of the same tribute who killed Lexi Deryl, no less). I couldn't remember the little girl's name, but I knew she was the child of the dead tribute. Corolla had been pregnant when he went into the Games.

"I know," Corolla replied kindly, taking the younger girl's hand in hers. "But Rebecca will be alright, won't you Rebecca?"

Rebecca smiled encouragingly. "Of course."

I guess Corolla could see the Peacekeepers starting to move in due to Brunella's disruption, because she started to pull Brunella away and back into the crowd. They were met by an older boy, who pulled her into a hug as she reached him. That must have been her brother.

Rebecca took a step back to stand next to me again.

"My family is so important to me," she said quietly. "You know my job. No one would do that unless they had loved ones to protect. I hate that I'm never going to see them again."

This time I did look at her. "Don't you think you'll make it back?"

She smiled slightly, her blue eyes sad. "No, girls like me don't get to come back. I just hope they'll be okay."

I looked away, almost ashamed that I didn't have people in my life like she did. I had a sister once, but ever since her "disappearance" it was just me and my dad, and my dad wasn't one of love and affection. In truth, he hated me. I didn't blame him though. I was a difficult person to love.

In that moment I realised that I was jealous of Rebecca. We were both being sent to our deaths, but she had people who would miss her when she died, unlike me who had no one. Would anyone cry when I died? I doubted it, since no one exactly liked me. They were probably relieved that I was being sent away; the random, scary-looking loner who no one cared about. Maybe I was better off dead anyway.

In the background, Harmony was wishing us luck and saying his goodbyes to the audience. A felt an arm on my back and soon I was being escorted by a surly-looking Peacekeeper into the justice building, where I doubted anyone would even bother to come and say goodbye.

* * *

**So here's District 6! What do you think of these two tributes. If it were me, I'd find the whole situation very awkward...**

**Just a reminder about sponsor points: A review gives you one sponsor point which you can use to by your favourite tribute items during the course of the games. A list will be posted on my profile once the bloodbath chapter has been uploaded. **

**Also, I've decided that I'm going to ask a specific question at the end of every chapter so I can see your views on aspects I find important for the direction I want to take my story in. So here's the first question: **

**"Who's your favourite tribute so far?"**

**Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed! **


	8. Chapter 7: Silver Siblings

**Chiffon Silver, District 1 (17)**

"_Mom, I'm home! And hungry! Did you make lunch today?"_

_There was no answer. Frowning, I pushed the door closed and walked out into the entrance hall of our large house in the Victors' Village. My mother usually met me at the door when I got home from school, but today she wasn't there. A nagging, uneasy feeling bubbled up from the pit of my stomach as I walked across the room._

"_Hello? Is anybody home?"_

_My called echoed through the empty house. Or, at least, I thought it was empty until I heard my brother answering from the kitchen._

"_Chiffon, don't come in here. Go upstairs. I'll bring you your lunch now."_

_My frown deepened. How dare he order me about! I'll show him._

"_You're not the boss of me," I snapped, marching into the kitchen. "I can do what I -"_

_And then I screamed._

_Damask was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, drenched in red. He clutched a scarlet knife in his right hand, holding it out away from his body so that the blood dripped from it and onto the kitchen floor, staining the white tiles crimson. At first, I thought he'd been hurt, but as I rushed forward I noticed the body lying crumpled on the floor. I froze._

_He then turned to me, causing me to stumble backwards as his bright-blue eyes met mine. These weren't the eyes I remembered; not the sweet blue of my elder brother. No, these eyes were cold; cruel and showed no life in their icy depth. They drew me in, closing in around me and choking me in their frozen world. I tried to scream, but I couldn't make any sound and my legs felt like lead as they tried to move. I was drowning in those eyes, gasping for breath as I tried to scream –_

And then I really did scream; loud and clear, and right in the middle of class. My face burned with embarrassment as the entire room turned to look at me and I wanted nothing more than to just sink through the floor and never be seen again.

My teacher gave an awkward cough.

"Err, Miss Silver? Are you alright?"

"Y-yes," I stammered, trying not to catch anyone's eyes as the class giggled. "Sorry, it won't happen again."

My teacher raised a heavily-pencilled eyebrow and sighed.

"I get this must be a taxing day for you," she said, her usually hard face showing a slight sign of sympathy. "I understand that your brother is volunteering today." She turned to a blond girl sitting at the front of the class. "Gulianna, please take Chiffon down to the nurse's office to get her something for her stress."

"Yes, Mam."

Scowling, I got up from my seat.

"Don't worry about it," I said, forcing a smile in the direction of Gulianna Gold. "I'll be alright getting there by myself."

My teacher mirrored my frown.

"I know you, Chiffon," she said sternly. "If I let you leave by yourself, there's about as much chance of you actually going to the nurse's office than there is of a District 12 tribute winning the Hunger Games. Miss Gold, please see that Chiffon actually goes to the nurse and then get straight back to class."

_A District 12 tribute won last year, _I thought angrily as I exited the classroom, but arguing wasn't going to get me anywhere at this point. My teacher's mind was made up.

"Um, so are you feeling okay?" Gulianna asked kindly as we walked down the hallway.

I sighed. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and slap the silly girl through the face, but I knew I had to be civil. I always tried to be polite and even-tempered around other people, so it would probably come as a shock to everyone to find that I used violence out of anger. That's one thing they teach us at the District 1 Training Academy.

"I'm fine now," I replied, smiling slightly at the other girl. "I just dozed off. That lecture was just going on and on, and I didn't really get much sleep last night."

Gulianna looked at me sympathetically. "I know how you feel," she said quietly. "My sister, Ren, is volunteering with your brother today. I'm worried sick."

I groaned inwardly. I wasn't worried about my stupid brother at all. In fact, I was actually hoping that he'd be the first to die in the bloodbath. The reason I hadn't been getting much sleep lately was because, with all the attention Damask was receiving at the moment, the nightmares had returned.

I shoved the thoughts of that day out of my head as I tried to think up a reasonable response to Gulianna. Luckily, she began to talk again.

"I already lost Seni in the 49th Games," she continued, looking down at the floor. "I don't know how I would survive if I lost Ren too."

Oh, how I would love to lose my brother…

"I'm sure she'll be fine," I said without much conviction. "She's been training for years and she's more than ready."

"Yeah, but Damask-"

Damask, Damask, Damask. That's all anyone ever seemed to talk about nowadays. Oh, look how strong Damask is! Damask is so talented with a sword! Damask is going to make the perfect victor! Damask this, Damask that; I was sick of it!

We had a plan from when we were little, about how we were going to be the first siblings to win the Hunger Games consecutively, but I guess that dream disappeared when Damask murdered our mother 8 years ago.

_No! I am NOT going to think about that now!_

Besides, even if we did manage to win the Hunger Games consecutively, our victories would probably be over-shadowed by the "tragic story of Nic and Sierra Golding" for as long as we lived. My mood darkened as I thought about the Golding sibling from District 2 who had both died in the 49th Hunger Games. Damask and I were supposed to be the first sibling pair! Though at different times, of course, so we could both win.

"Chiffon? Are you even listening to me?"

I snapped back to reality where Gulianna was staring at me, a concerned look on her pretty face.

"Sorry," I sighed. "I kind of zoned out when you mentioned Damask. Force of habit."

We lapsed into an awkward silence, but luckily I was soon saved by our arrival at the nurse's office.

"Well, bye then," I said, giving Gulianna a one-armed hug. "See you at the reaping later."

"Yeah, see you."

My time with the academy nurse was short, mainly because she was busy treating a younger boy who had hurt himself during training and that there actually wasn't anything wrong with me. She took one look at me, told me to go lie down in the sick-room and went back to treating the boy, who was now crying.

I chose the bed furthest from the door and, lying down, closed my eyes to drift off into sleep again. It was actually quite relaxing, especially since I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and I was dozing in seconds. That was, until I heard the deep voice above me.

"Chiffon?"

I opened my eyes to see Damask leaning over me, and I wasn't surprised at all. My brother had always been weirdly protective over me, so it made sense for him to come and see me because I'd been sent to the nurse.

I blinked up at him. "Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

I sighed. "I fell asleep in class, okay?" I replied, scowling slightly. "And then I had a bad dream which made me wake up screaming. I'm fine."

Damask looked concerned. "What did you dream about?"

I sighed again. There was really no point in lying to my brother. He could always tell.

"The day you killed Mom."

We were both silent after that, until Damask leaned forward to brush the brown hair off my face.

"You know I'm a different person now," he said tenderly, cupping my face in his hand as I tried my hardest not to flinch away. "That was a long time ago, and the medicine father has been giving me is working. You know that. That person that day, it wasn't me. This is me." He gently kissed me cheek. "I have to get back to class. I'll see you later."

With one last brush of his hand, he turned around and left the room. I hadn't realised that I had been holdingmy breath until I let it out and, when I did, a new feeling of unease washed over me. I had never been able to forgive Damask for what he did that day and, even though he was on all sorts of medication now, I still didn't feel comfortable around him. He changed that day, no matter how much he doesn't want to believe it. My older brother was replaced with a monster.

I sat up suddenly, not being able to remain in that bed any longer. I needed air, I needed water, I just needed something so that I wasn't in that room anymore. I swung my legs off the bed and moved hurriedly towards the door. The nurse was nowhere to be seen as I left the office, which is just as well because she would have tried to stop me. I needed to get out.

I pushed through the door to the girls' bathroom on the other side of the hall, heading straight to the sink to splash my face with water. I sighed with relief as the cool drop trickled down my face and onto my neck, and I was about to splash myself again when I heard the noise. Someone was crying.

"Hello?" I called, turning around to find the source of the noise. "Who's there? Do you need help?"

"Go away!" the voice sniffed from the other side of a locked cubical door. "I need to be alone!"

I could feel myself getting annoyed, but I pushed those feelings aside.

"You have two options here," I said evenly, trying my best to keep my voice kind. "Either you can come out now by yourself or I go and call the nurse, since her office is across the hall anyway. Your choice." I paused. "I think coming out now would be less embarrassing, to be honest."

The girl sniffed again, but then I heard the sound of the cubical door unlocking. A thin, red-eyed girl came out, looking rather ashamed of herself. In her state it took me a while to recognise her.

"Ren?" I said surprised. "What are you doing in here?"

"What do you think I'm doing in here?" she snapped, glaring at me with her puffy eyes.

"Right, that was a stupid question." I paused. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

A tear leaked out of the corner of the 16-year-old's eye.

"I don't want to volunteer today," she said in a small voice. "I'm not ready. I try to pretend I am, but I'm just not. I'm not like Seni, and I'll probably die just like he did." She sniffed again. "And now it's too late. I have to volunteer."

I put my arm around her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "A Career tribute shouldn't behave like this."

"Don't worry," I said kindly, "I won't tell anyone. I want to help you."

Ren sniffed. "How? What can you possibly do now that can fix my situation?"

I took a deep breath. "I'll volunteer in your place."

Ren looked surprised. "What?" she said, shocked. "Why? Your brother is volunteering this year. What if you end up having to kill him?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm hoping for."**  
**

Now Ren looked even more surprised. "Why?"

"Don't worry about that," I said quickly, tightening my hold around her shoulders. "Just remember not to volunteer at the reaping today. Just keep quiet, and I'll volunteer. Everyone will be so shocked that I'm volunteering to go with Damask that they'll forget all about you and that you didn't volunteer. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Chiffon."

I just smiled.

* * *

I stood in line with the other 17-year-old non-volunteers, craning my neck to get a good view of where Damask and Ren were standing as they prepared to volunteer. Damask looked as calm as ever, but Ren still looked frightened, even though she was trying to hide it. Did she think I would chicken out?

Would I chicken out? The reality of what I was about to do hit me and I nearly sat down in shock. Why did I offer to volunteer for the Hunger Games? I had lost my dream to compete along with my mother, so it wasn't glory that I was looking for anymore. I just wanted the chance to kill my brother myself; to get revenge for our mother and make sure that what he did to her wouldn't happen to anyone else. I knew I had to do this.

And then it was my turn.

The escort reached into the glass-bowl with the girls' names inside and had finally picked one out. She cleared her through to read the name of the District 1 girl who would never actually enter the Hunger Games.

"Felicity Lesuri!"

There was a silence, a long pause as everyone waited for Ren to volunteer as planned. Even Felicity didn't bother to move from her place in line because she knew the volunteer would shout out at any moment. But Ren kept quiet.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

"I volunteer!"

A gasp went up from the crowd as they realised that Ren hadn't spoken. The sixteen-year-old looked down at the floor, but no one noticed her embarrassed expression as I made my way out of my line and towards the stage.

"_That's Chiffon Silver!"_

"_Damask's sister?"_

"_Why is she volunteering? What happened to Serenity Gold?"_

I ignored the crowd's whispers as I walked up to the stage, avoiding everyone's stares as I shook the escort's hand.

"My name is Chiffon Silver," I said clearly, "and I'm seventeen years old."

"My, what a brave girl you are for volunteering!" gushed the escort, shaking my hand vigorously. "District 1 never seems to be short of brave tributes like yourself. That's why I love being your escort so much!" She smiled widely at me and turned back to the audience, who had stopped their murmurs now.

"Time for the boys then!" she said happily. "Though I have no doubt that a strong young man will come forward and volunteer today."

She reached into the bowl.

"Light Nickson!"

"I volunteer!"

Like expected, Damask volunteered right on cue. The crowd started whispering again as he walked up to the stage, as if they didn't expect him to volunteer because I was already going into the Games. They didn't know my brother at all.

"My name is Damask Silver," he said, his deep voice silencing the crowd, "and I'm eighteen years old."

The escort raised her eyebrows, looking from me to Damask and back again.

"Silver?" she said, her bright eyes confused. "You're brother and sister?"

"Yes," replied Damask, his voice showing no hint of emotion. "We are."

The escort squealed. "This is so exciting!" she cried, throwing her dyed-pink hands up into the air. "My very own Nic and Sierra Golding! I never thought this day would come! Well, shake hands you two."

I turned to Damask and stretched out my hand. He took it, and for the first time since the reaping started, our eyes met. I nearly took a step back.

Damask's blue eyes were as cold as ice, and I could almost see the anger pouring from them over what had just happened. I shivered immediately, remembering the last time I had seen his eyes like that.

That was also the last day I saw my mother.

* * *

**And that concludes the final reaping chapter! After this I'll be writing one or two goodbye scenes, one or two (probably one) train ride scenes and then we're in the Capitol! That's where the real fun begins...**

**Thanks to everyone who has been reading and I hope you'll all leave a review :)**

**Question: "Out of Chiffon and Damask, who do you think is the most likely to win?"**


	9. Chapter 8: Forgotten Artemis

**Artemis Hues, District 5 (14)**

Even as I sat on the couch in the Justice Building, the morning's events still seemed surreal. Had I really just been reaped? Why me? I was a good girl, a quiet girl, a girl who just seemed to fade into the background; what had I ever done to deserve this? I'm no one special; just your average 14-year-old from the power district. Oh, well I guess I'm special now since I've just become a tribute in the 51st Hunger Games.

All my life I've just wanted to be noticed. You'd feel that way too if you were the youngest child with two amazingly wonderful older siblings. Mabel, my 23-year-old sister, had always been the social butterfly of the family. She's beautiful (with poker-straight, dark hair and even darker eyes), great at making friends and no one minds that she's a bit of an airhead because she just comes across as so amazing to everyone. According to our mother, Mabel is the best daughter a parent could hope for, and is now getting married to someone way above our social class; my mother's dream.

My brother, Declan, was always our father's favourite. In fact, our dad didn't really have time for anyone who was not the "District 5 regional junior wresting champion". That's Declan if you didn't catch it…Though, to be honest, I can't really hate him for being Dad's favourite. After all, he was the only one in the family who actually paid me any attention, and I loved him for that.

I startled as the room's heavy door creaked open and my mother and father entered. My father looked down-trodden, but my mother's expression was anything by sad, more neutral, like she didn't really care that her youngest child was about to be sent to her death.

"Don't cry, Dear," she said dismissively as she walked in. "Your eyes are so big that people are bound to notice even if they are the slightest bit red. The Capitol won't like a cry-baby."

Gee, thanks, Mom.

"Heather," my dad said disapprovingly, frowning at his wife, "cut the girl some slack. Being reaped must be a huge shock for her."

"Not as much of a shock when I found out I was pregnant with her in the first place," my mom replied with an idle laugh. "Now that was a shock! I guess this is the way the universe has of balancing out nasty surprises. Look at it this way, Kevin; at least now we have one less mouth to feed, like before when we just had our two perfect children."

I felt as if I had just been slapped in the face.

"Get out," I said shakily, nodding towards the door. "Now."

"Artemis…" my dad started, but I cut him off in midsentence.

"GET OUT!"

A Peacekeeper stuck in head around the door. He was a relatively new Peacekeeper; a young man of about twenty with sandy brown hair and sea-green eyes. He had been transferred here recently form District 4, probably a graduate of the Career Academy there, and had the reputation of being very nice for a Peacekeeper. Which was refreshing considering all the other assholes they seem to hire.

"Is everything alright in here?" he asked, his sea-green eyes looking concerned.

"I want them gone," I said as evenly as I could, tears beginning to prick the corners of my eyes. "Right now."

The Peacekeeper looked at my parents apologetically.

"Mr and Mrs Hues, if you'll come this way please…"

I refused to meet my parents' eyes as they were escorted from the room. My father stopped at the door as if to say something, but then just sighed and left. I only allowed myself to cry once I'd heard the door snap shut.

How could she say something like that about me? My own mother…I knew that she never truly loved me like she did Mabel, but I never expected that kind of reaction at all. All I needed was a bit of comfort but she, once again, fell short of expectations.

My siblings were the next people to enter the room. Like always, Mabel walked through the door first. Walking through a door first might seem like a small thing, but it described Mabel's personality perfectly. It was just like her; always wanting to be first and always wanting to be the best. She always had to be better than everyone else.

"I can't believe you were actually reaped," Mabel said as our brother shut the door behind her. "I mean, just look at the irony here! The one time you were picked over me, and it turned out to be for the Hunger Games!"

Declan just grunted in agreement. Like Mabel always wanting to be the centre of attention, it was typical of Declan to usually speak in grunts. Our father says that he's just a "man of few words" but, to me, he's just a typical, meat-headed jock.

"Yeah, hilarious," I said dryly, turning away from my siblings.

"I know, right?" Mabel agreed, seating herself on the couch opposite me. "Everyone always says I'm so witty and that I'm the best at parties because I always have something interesting to say. Which reminds me! I need to find an outfit for my engagement party on Saturday." She twirled her large, diamond ring around her finger. "I'm thinking blue."

I sighed inwardly. Trust Mabel to make everything about herself. Here I was, practically in tears because I was being sent to my death, and all she could talk about was her stupid party that I wouldn't even be going to.

"Didn't Wesley's sister die in the 49th Games?" I asked, trying to bring the topic of conversation back to my impending doom. "Evelyn Jenkins, wasn't it?"

Mabel scowled at me. "You're always such a downer, Art," she snapped. "I don't want to think about my fiancé's dead sister when I'm about to get married!"

_Clearly you don't want to think about your own sister's death either._

We lapsed into an awkward silence after that. I didn't know how to respond to how nonchalant Mabel was acting about the reaping, and I think Mabel was feeling a little bit uneasy about how she was blatantly avoiding the subject. Well either that or she was being typical, air-headed Mabel. Declan was being typical Declan though and didn't say a word through the entire exchange.

"I'm sorry," Mabel said suddenly. "That was insensitive." I lifted my head, waiting for an apology form Mabel about ignoring the fact that I was reaped. "I shouldn't talk about my wedding when you won't be there to see it."

And then I lost it.

"What is wrong with you people?" I yelled, standing up from my chair so quickly that I pushed it backwards. "First Mom and Dad, and now you? You're all so involved in your own bloody lives that you can't even see someone else who isn't you!" The tears that I had been keeping back for so long just came spilling out at this point. "I've spent my entire life making excuses for you all, but I've had enough! I'm being sent to my death and you can't even offer me one word of comfort! What is wrong with you people? Do you hate me? Are you selfish? Or are you just plain stupid? I can't take it anymore! Especially not now."

I sat back down in my armchair, put my head in my hands and just cried. Everything I had felt today, as well as all the feelings that I'd had bottled up about my family over the years just poured out of me and my whole body shook with violent sobs.

Then something strange happened. Mabel actually got up and put her arms around me; something she'd never done before in her entire life.

"I just can't accept that you're really going," she said quietly, holding me tightly. "I can't come to terms with that. I don't know how." She began to stroke my hair. "So I'm sorry if it seems to you that I just don't care."

Declan sat down on the arm of my chair.

"I care too," he said, his tone equally soft. "You're my little sister; how could I not?"

I didn't know how to respond to that so I just sat there quietly. It felt good knowing that my siblings could actually care about me sometimes, but the whole situation was just so new to me and I didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter anyway because a Peacekeeper, the same young man as before, knocked and entered the room.

"I'm sorry, your time is up."

Mabel kissed me on the cheek as she stood up.

"Good luck, Art," she said, smiling encouragingly. "I know you're going to be the smartest one there in the arena."

Declan just patted me on the shoulder before he followed our sister out of the room. I was left alone with the Peacekeeper.

"You have one more visitor," he said, nodding towards the door. "A school friend, I think."

"Thank you," I said quietly, not quite meeting his gaze.

The Peacekeeper looked awkward.

"I've never done this before," he said apologetically as he gestured around the room. "I don't really know how to react to someone being reaped. You look so sad, which is the complete opposite of the tributes from my district because they actually volunteer for the Games."

"Peacekeepers don't talk with tributes," I said in a small voice, ignoring his small attempt at kindness. "It's not done, and it's not like we're coming back anyway."

"Well I think that's rubbish," the Peacekeeper replied with a grin. "And I'm sure you would make a good victor. I've heard you're pretty smart, and if there's one thing I've learned at the District 4 Career Academy, it's that your brain will get you further than your muscles." He paused. "I'll tell you what," he continued, smiling again. "When you get home after the Games, ask for Dillon Odair. I know a thing or two about victors and I'll be happy to help you with anything that you need."

I just stared at him. Why was he being so friendly? This really wasn't normal for a Peacekeeper.

"I should go get your friend now," Dillon said after a while. "I'll give you two a bit longer together."

And with that, he left.

Violet came charging into the room a few second later, throwing her arms around my next as she reached my spot on the couch.

"I can't believe you were reaped!" she cried, hugging me tightly. "Out of everyone they could have chosen; it had to be you."

"Yeah, I could hardly believe it myself," I said dryly, hugging my best friend back. "But I guess there's nothing I can do about it now anyway."

Violet drew back, her blue eyes bright.

"How cute was that Peacekeeper who let me in?" she asked excitedly. "I mean, wow!"

"I guess," I replied. "He was actually pretty friendly to me, which was strange for a Peacekeeper. I think they should all be like that. I felt better after he spoke to me."

"I heard he's from District 4," Violet said, her eyes glazing over slightly as she thought of the beautiful district. "I've always wanted to go there."

"It sounds amazing," I said with a sigh, "but, Violet, did you really come to see me just to talk about this Peacekeeper?"

Violet's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh of course not!" she exclaimed. "I came to bring you this!" She reached into her pocket and drew out a silver locket. She opened it to reveal a small photograph inside. "It's of us," she said happily. "I figured you might want something like this since you don't exactly have the best relationship with your family."

I felt my eyes tear up. The locket was beautiful, an item of Violet's that I'd always admired, and giving it to me as a district token was a really lovely gesture on her part. I didn't except something like this.

"Don't you like it?" Violet asked, sounding slightly hurt. "You're crying."

I laughed and wiped away the tears. "I'm crying because I like it," I explained. "Thank you so much. Vi. I'd love to have it as my district token."

Violet's face lit up. "I'm glad," she said, sounding a bit more like her old self. "I'm going to miss you so much!"

"I'm going to miss you too," I replied, feeling my eyes tear up again, though this time for a completely different reason. "I wish things didn't have to be this way."

"You could probably win, you know?" Violet said, her eyes still dry because crying was not something she ever did. "Just think about it! You're smart, right? You could totally outwit the other tributes, especially your district partner. He doesn't look like he was much going on upstairs."

I thought back to the reaping and the 13-year-old who had been reaped as my district partner. I think his name was Rylos Velken, an odd District 5 name if you ask me. He seemed shocked at being reaped, but hid it quite well as we walked up to join me on the stage. He even had a little skip in his walk, but only I could see his eyes from the angle he was walking and they looked dark, like there was something more going on behind them.

"I wouldn't be too sure," I said thoughtfully. "I guess underestimating people at this point wouldn't be a good idea."

"Do you think you'll ally?"

That was a good question. I hadn't really thought about it.

"Possibly," I said, sounding thoughtful again. "We're both young and from a weak district, so I doubt many tributes would want to ally with us. We might have no choice."

At that point, Dillon stuck his head around the door.

"Sorry, girls," he said, "but your time is up. Artemis, if you'd follow me, please. The train has arrived."

Violet gave me one last strong hug.

"Be brave," she whispered into my ear. "I know you can do this."

Be brave. That was probably the best advice someone could give me at that point. I was terrified, but not being scared isn't what bravery is about. It's about being completely afraid, but still fighting anyway and not letting your fears get the better of you. I wasn't going to let them control me.

I was going to fight.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait, but here's the next chapter! Sorry if there are a few mistakes in it...my one beta is sick at the moment (I hope you feel better soon, Pawprinter - oh wow, that would have been the perfect opportunity to make a bad pun) and my other beta is on holiday. So I apologies if I've missed something during my attempt at editing. I find it very annoying that it's difficult for me to edit my own work...**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Next up, the last goodbye scene featuring the District 6 female tribute, Rebecca Deryl. Because, let's be honest here, how could I not give her a goodbye chapter after we all saw Lexi in the previous Games? After that, it's off to the Capitol!**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Question: If you were Artemis, would you have let your family treat you like that all your life, or would you have stood up for yourself ages ago?**


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